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reiderwriter · 6 months ago

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🔫 Oh, Captain, My Captain 🔫

Pairing: Unit Chief!Spencer Reid x Fem BAU!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: Unit Cheif!Spencer who uses gun training as an excuse to rub up on the new member🤭

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Gun kink, dubcon, dry humping, pictures/photos, age gap, Pervert! Spencer, unprotected sex, implied cream pie, semi-public sex, boss x employee dynamic, spanking, masturbation, slight cum play, degradation (slut, whore etc), praise kink if you squint (good girl).

A/N: This is my first entry for the CM Kink Bingo challenge 2024~! I chose a lot of the prompts based on some of the smut requests in my inbox and let my TELL you I was SO EXCITED to write Unit Chief + gun kink!!! I'm so excited for this entire challenge tbh, it reminds me of the good old days on past years' Kinktober 😂🥰

Masterlist || Bingo Board

When Spencer Reid was made the interim Unit Chief for the BAU, he agreed with the reasoning. At the time, he really couldn't argue that he was aptly experienced, responsible enough to make big decisions, and reliable. And whilst he had been through a lot in the last two decades with the FBI, he still did value his own sense of morality.

He accepted the job and then was assigned you as an intern, and suddenly, he didn't agree with any previous assessment of him.

Experienced, yes, but he was still stammering and rambling when discussing simple things like the weather. He certainly wasn't responsible enough to keep his eyes off you, and he probably couldn't be relied on in the field to focus instead of thinking about your pretty, plump lips and how they would feel wrapped around his cock.

All morality had gone out of the window after a week of working with you when he closed his office blinds, popped his pants open and took his cock in hand, relieving himself while staring at your newly printed ID card.

He had a lot of power, during the few months Emily was away, and he was trying desperately not to use it.

Unfortunately, with great power comes a great amount of orders to give, and since you reported directly to Unit Chief Reid, you'd become his de facto shadow for the first few weeks. You bought him coffees when you got your own, asked him for quick run downs of past cases so you could take notes and remember relevant details for later, asked him for help writing reports.

Which caused the blinds to be drawn at least once a day as he desperately tried to keep his hands off you.

Emily had joked when leaving him behind that she'd usually give the new boss the “don't shit where you eat” speech, especially with people in your chain of command, but it really wasn't necessary with him. Of all people.

It didn't help that you were so damn clumsy in the office. You were usually pretty calm and collected, but since starting at the BAU, the pressure was getting to you a bit.

You made small mistakes, you double, and triple checked your work, and you were constantly in Spencer's office asking him for opinions on topics, for background information, and for, well, reassurance.

And you dropped stuff. A lot of stuff.

Your analytical Monday have been perfectly suited to the BAU, but somewhere between your head and your hands, all your body parts refused to function adeptly. You'd dropped things constantly, tripped on your own feet, and constantly bumped into people even while they stood still.

Not to mention the time your dropped your (thankfully, iced) coffee all over Spencer's lap when you'd brought him his own.

“Oh my- Oh my god, Doctor Reid, I am so so sorry,” you scrambled, immediately grabbing tissues as he jumped up from the desk.

“Please let me help you, god, I'm so stupid, I'm so sorry-” you said, patting away as his lap as he stood frozen in front of you. You dropped to your knees to mop up the traces of coffee still running down his thighs, as he stammered.

“Y/N, please, you don't need to, I have a spare pair I can-”

“I'll have them dry cleaned, I promise,” you begged, just as a knock sounded and the door to his office swung back open for JJ to enter through.

“Spencer, the files for the- woah! Okay, I'm not jumping to conclusions, but I'm still backing out of this room right now.”

She laughed her way out of the room, which was when your brain finally caught up to your hands and realized the stupid position you'd put yourself in.

You'd practically pushed your boss up against the wall, kneeled before him, and begged to touch him.

You'd squeaked out an apology and quickly left the office, much to Spencer's relief, because even after an ice bath and semi-public humiliation, he was hard and horny and his IQ had been knocked to roughly 7.

How he'd wanted to keep you pinned in place, to stroke your cheek as he made sure you took each inch of him down your throat slowly, filling you up so you couldn't escape.

How he'd wanted to keep his job as well, something he'd probably not get to do if JJ had decided to walk back in, or - god forbid - bring other witnesses to his debauchery.

You were clumsy, and he was desperately horny, and you were both complete and total messes.

“I don't see how I can help you, Y/N,” Tara held up her hands in defeat as you begged for her help.

“I'm competent with a gun, but it's not something I can teach you. I wouldn't know where to start.”

“I just need someone to show me how to hold it properly. There's a trick to it, right? There has to be a trick to it?”

“Ah yes, the old aim and shoot trick, I forgot about that one,” Rossi laughed, shaking his head at your office antics.

You'd been interning for a few weeks, and the latest in a line of ability tests was shooting. You'd pretty much aced the physical fitness test, but you'd never even held a gun before joining the FBI, and you were struggling.

“I've put in 10 hours at the shooting range in the last week, and the closest I've got to an accurate shot was hitting the next lane's paper. Don't ask.”

Your coworkers shared a sympathetic look as you sat down at the round table, ready to hear the next case details.

“I'm relegated to office work until I pass this certificate, and I was not made for sitting at a desk for 7 hours.”

“Well, why don't you ask Reid for help?” JJ said helpfully, bringing her coffee to her lips to hide the meddling smile plastered there.

“Reid?”

“He had some issues shooting when he was a rookie as well, but he put in some hours at the range, and now he's the best shot on the team.”

“Easy there, blondie, I'm nothing to sniff at with a gun myself,” Rossi smiled, patting himself on the back.

“I'm sure he'd enjoy helping you,” JJ continued.

“Who would enjoy what?” Spencer said, finally joining the team in the meeting room and pulling out the case files as everyone opened up their tablets.

“Y/N was just saying she's having some trouble shooting, and I suggested she ask for your help?”

He froze momentarily and stared down at you as you looked up at him, hopefully, a shy smile on your face.

He tried to keep his eyes on yours, but from this height, he had the perfect view down your shirt, your perfect-sized breasts pressing together as you leaned towards him, giving him a generous eyeful.

He looked away quickly and nodded his agreement, sitting himself down and attaching his eyes to the files instead so he could get his mind off of your body, and your lips, and the begging that surely would've come out of your mouth had he not accepted earlier. His brain was tormenting him with images of you underneath him, under his desk even, his cock in your mouth as you paid for his precious time training you. He blinked away the thoughts and, for once in his life, actually had to put effort into reading and understanding each word on a page as he ignored the raging fire of his lust.

A few hours later, the two of you were at the shooting range.

“My main problem is shooting. The instructors said my form isn't great either and that I looked like a child playing with toys whenever I hold a gun, so if you could help with that…?” You said, putting on the goggles and turning back to look at your boss.

“Doctor Reid?” You asked.

“Oh, yeah. Yes, they said something similar when I was training. First, let's see what you can do.”

You smiled at him as he watched you bounce up to the lane and pick up the gun. You calmed your breathing and got ready to take the safety off when you felt a hard hand clamp over your own and pull the gun from your hand.

“What are you doing?” He asked, staring down at you with wide eyes.

“You said to show you-”

“You're not wearing a vest.”

You cursed quickly as he pulled you back over to the side of the room. The place was practically deserted, as it was past the official closing hours of the range, but Spencer had been forced to pull some strings with his new title and had managed to keep it open (and somehow unmanned) until now.

He quickly grabbed the first vest he saw and pulled it over your head, taking the side straps and tightening them until the vest was comfortably protecting all your major organs. His hands lingered for a second, and you stared shocked up at him, somehow enjoying the way he pushed you around.

You were a grown woman, and you could do this all by yourself, but there was something about a man roughly a decade and a half older than you controlling your movements that were entirely too dangerous. You quickly stepped away and back to the podium, whispering a quick thanks under your breath as you tried to ignore the heat pooling between your legs.

You stretched out your neck a little as you felt him walk back behind you again, keeping his distance as he watched you shoot your first clip at the targets.

Out of six bullets, you'd missed the target five times and had grazed just below the targets arm once, a brilliant display of your natural lack of talent.

“Your form is wrong. You're holding yourself too rigid, which means the recoil has a higher chance to hurt you. Loosen your arms slightly.”

His advice was actually good and you followed his instructions closely, listening clearly as he walked you through each tip.

“Like this?”

“A little more… here, let me.”

You had no chance to react before his body was pressed behind yours and his hands were wrapped around your own, moving g each finger by a fraction to improve your grip, trailing up your arms slowly, leaving a field of goosebumps wherever his fingers grazed. He repositioned your elbows before moving forward his hands down to your hips, turning them slightly as he widened your stance.

“Try now.”

Breathless, you could only nod as he stepped back, unaware if he'd even said anything since his hands had landed on you.

You forced yourself to breathe again and took one shot.

"Oh my god, it hit. Spencer, it hit!”

“Do it again and we can celebrate.”

Another five shots later, and you'd managed a small cluster of hits around the arms and one shot.

“You're definitely veering left, so let's try and over correct by aiming to the right.”

He pushed up against you again and held the gun, moving it to the right a fraction, taking complete control of your body.

If your breath was scarce before, it was totally gone now as you felt his crotch press up against your ass. Considering the bulletproof vests put an extra inch around your chests, he was absolutely doing it on purpose, and you were shocked to realize you were too.

You'd pushed your ass back into him, grinding slowly on his hardening cock as he hooked his head over your shoulder, looked down the sight with you, and fired the gun.

Straight into the center of the target.

“Good girl,” he whispered before pulling away.

He moved two meters away from you, and maintained the distance for the rest of the night, and even though you were both aware of his hard cock tightening his pants, neither of you said a word.

“Same time tomorrow,” he said and grabbed his jacket to leave. It was the first thing he'd said as your Unit Chief that even vaguely sounded like a command and not an enthusiastic suggestion, and you were suddenly very excited for the rest of the week.

“Before we start,” he said the next day, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows neatly. “Show me your posture again.”

He gestured towards one of the dummy guns at the side of the range, the style you recognised from mission training that held small layers instead of bullets - same weight, same mechanism, no lethality.

You'd spent the day and night worked up from the last time you'd been here with him, and a small part of you felt disappointed you were starting with the kiddy gun. Not one to miss an opportunity, though. You bent over to pick it up, making sure to bend at the waist right in front of him to show off your ass.

Maybe you'd gone crazy, but the memory of his touch was burning you from the inside out and you needed to feel it again to make sure you weren't crazy.

He maintained his distance, though. It was hard for him to keep his hands off you in all honesty, arms crossed to keep himself from crossing any more lines. That and he was sure that you'd be able to tell he'd spurted cum all over them in his office the night before despite him scrubbing them thoroughly multiple times, the weight of his guilt eating into him like a parasite.

“Arms up, point straight. Good.” You tried to keep still as he assessed your form, but his eyes prowled over you thoroughly, and you had to suppress a shudder.

“You need to control your breathing, Y/N, you can't be afraid of pulling the trigger if you need to.”

“I'm not-”

“Shoulders back,” he said, moving to your side as he again began slightly correcting your form.

Unlike the day before, though, this time, there were no bullets. And no bullets meant no bulletproof vest.

That's why when his exploring hands came to your chest, he could feel your hardening nipples through the flimsy material of your dress. He could feel you pressing forward into his touch as his hands cupped your breast.

“Calm your heartbeat, Y/N. You need to stay calm so you can shoot straight, right?”

The words sounded alien, even to him. His gaze was locked on the top of your shirt, looking down it to the slope of your chest, disappearing into your dress. He so wanted to let his hands disappear right along with them, to pull you back into his aching cock and play with your nipples until you cried out for mercy.

He let his touch fall and played off his molestation as correction, even as your underwear grew slick with desire.

“Grab your vest. Let's try again.”

A week of late night training later, and you weren't sure if you were improving at all. The guns were the last thing on your mind when Spencer's hands were on you, his voice in your ear telling you how good you were for him, such a good subordinate.

Both of you had yet to acknowledge that you were spending the majority of the session just rubbing up on each other, like teens at prom, desperate for whatever friction you could get without having to name the game you were playing.

“Doctor Reid, if I hit the target this time, can you do something for me?” You chanced on the Friday, needing something else to tide you over for the weekend.

“What do you need?”

“No, no, nothing specific, just like a…a reward?"

He'd done his best to keep his hands off of you, which meant that he'd failed miserably, and he knew exactly what he'd like to treat you to as a reward. Keeping his hands of you in daytime hours had become harder and harder as the week flew by, and he felt like a randy school boy the amount of times he'd needed to excuse himself to either kill his bones or abuse his cock with his hand.

“Oh,” he said, growing quiet. You took his hesitation for rejection, and immediately began to back pedal.

“Y-You don't have to, sir. It was really quite conceited on my part to demand a reward from y-”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“If you shoot six bullets that hit either the chest or the head, you'll get a reward.”

You smiled brightly at him, suddenly feeling very hopeful.

“But if you miss, you'll get the opposite.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about what they meant. Just hearing the words made him want to visibly cringe and write himself up for office misconduct. But your smile didn't fade one bit.

“Yes, sir. I won't let you down.”

Turning away from him, you loaded your weapon again, and he watched you put yourself into the correct position. Despite his middling efforts to actually teach you, you had seemed to have improved over the last few days.

He wasn't sure if he wanted that outcome.

Just as you stepped up to take your first shot, he stepped closer to you, wrapped his hands around your waist, and pushed up against you.

Your first shot veered left, completely missing the target as you gasped. Spencer had popped open the front button of your pants and was unzipping them, letting his hand wonder down to your panties.

“Look straight. There will be distractions out in the field, you can do this, right?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

You tried to steady your breathing g and your hands again as he began rubbing slow circles into your underwear, your body alight with lust as you let him.

Your second shot hit the paper. Your third didn't.

“You can do better than that, Y/N.”

You took another deep breath and picked up your gun again, shooting just as he shoved your underwear to one side and dipped his fingers into you.

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you quickly shot your last three bullets, not caring where they went so much as where his fingers went.

“Y/N, I expected better,” you could hear the smile in his voice as he took the gun from your hands with his spare. “You can't even handle a weapon like this.”

He kept his fingers pumping shallowly inside you, as he inspected the gun again.

“Maybe you'd learn better under duress. I did, too. It's easy to learn when there's a gun pointed yo your head, right?”

He quickly turned the gun on you pushing it to your temple as his other hand shoved your pants down. He angled you forward with a press of his hips as his fingers returned to your cunt and slipped deeper inside.

“S-Spencer, fuck-”

“You missed all six bullets, so punishment it is.” His fingers gained speed as you stood, flushed and spreading your legs for him. You wanted to bury your head in your arms and scream out your moans, but the gun to your head kept you quiet and in place.

“You may not be able to shoot a gun, Y/N, but that doesn't mean you're not enjoying them. You're so wet for me.”

Tears sprung to your eyes as you felt your climax build and build, chasing the high you'd been searching for with every unprotected touch.

You were letting your boss touch you, letting a man almost old enough to be your father hold a gun to your head, and you were going to squirt all over his fingers very soon.

“Spencer, Spencer, please- please….”

“Shhh, it’s okay. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You just needed some more help learning. You can cum now, princess. It's okay, let go.”

You tried your best to hold back, but your body had a mind of its own as your orgasm hit you, the cold metal of the gun finally moving away from your head.

With one hand around your waist, pinning you to the side so you stayed upright, Spencer carefully placed the gun back down before dragging your pants back up your legs.

Taking your elbow in his hand, he walked you to the door as you blinked out the daze in your eyes.

“We're going to my office now. To talk about your recent performance.”

You couldn't have cared less what he'd said as long as his hands were on you, stretching your head back so it rested on his chest and pushing up until your lips could connect with the bare skin at his neck.

“Hands off. We're going to walk all the way back to my office, and you're not going to let anyone know what just happened, okay? Not with your words, or your expressions or body language, okay?”

You nodded, but he kept a hand on your elbow, gesturing yourself forward.

You weren't sure how you were even able to walk after what had to have been the most intense orgasm of your life, but the promise of more likely carried you all the way up the stairs until you were comfortably enclosed in Spencer's office.

Like he'd found himself doing multiple times a day this month, Spencer closed the blinds, pulling you down to the sofa with him as he sat.

“When I was your age,” he started, making sure your ass was facing up as he pushed your head into the cushions gently.

“When I was your age, I couldn't shoot well. My Unit Chief had to kick some sense into me. I think you need that as well, right, Y/N? You need someone to beat some sense into you?”

You nodded as he stroked your hair, and he thanked you for being so open to him.

He made quick work of your pants and underwear, and in a quick hot burst, his hand came down on your ass.

“Fuck, more. Please more!”

He did it again and again as you squirmed in his lap and moaned, begging him to keep brutalizing you.

“That's it, show me how pathetic you are, show me how much you're craving my attention.”

He pushed your legs off of his lap until you were kneeling on the floor underneath him. He pulled up your arms and pulled your shirt over your head, similarly discarding your tank top and bra until you were totally bare on the floor in front of him.

Instead of stripping himself yet, he pulled out his phone, palming himself through his pants.

“Show yourself off,” he said, pointing the camera at you.

You followed his directions quickly, hands flying to your tits to fondle them while he took pictures of your fucked our face.

With his foot he gently nudged you down onto all yours, letting you know to turn around so he could flash a picture or two of your sloppy cunt as well.

Your hips rocked back and forth in the air, unconsciously searching for something to rub against, some relief from your frustrations.

He kept snapping pictures.

Deciding that you needed his attention and stat, you let your chest fall to the floor, face flat too as your hips lifted higher in the air. Your hands found your ass cheeks, and you spread them slightly, giving Spencer an even better view of how much you needed him.

He took one last photo, and then he knelt behind you faster than you could expect.

In a heartbeat, his pants were down, in two his cock was buried deep inside of you.

“So…tight, shit. You're such a precious little slut, you kept this little pussy nice and fresh just for me, right?”

It was all you could do not to cum right there, and when he started moving you were a goner. It had always been easier for you to cum a second time than it was for you to cum a first time, and considering how quick he'd made it happen earlier, you really should've been expecting it.

Your body convulsed around his cock as you screamed into the floor, hands still spreading yourself wide for him as he rutted into you.

“That's it, milk my cock, Y/N. Milk your bosses cock, let me blow my load inside you.”

Your nipples rubbed painfully against the carpet, only adding to the storm of stimulation you were experiencing.

His hips faltered as he collapsed over your body, holding tight as his muscles locked him into place with his orgasm. He came inside you with a grunt, and he felt your cunt still clenching around him, making sure to take every last drop.

“That- was much - preferable,” you said, gasping for breath. “To shooting - any gun.”

He rolled off of you as you laughed, body satiated now for the first time in what felt like forever.

“You still need to work on your gun skills,” he said after you'd detangled yourself, but before either if you had worked up the courage to leave the floor and get dressed.

“Why?” You said, turning your head to look at him lying on the floor next to you.

“It seems I can fire pretty accurately already,” you said, as your hand snaked down to his cock one more time.

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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wait your new hotch blurb got me thinking what about they got secretly married and everyone knows that hotch is married they just don’t know it’s to bau!reader because he seemed very genuine in the wanting privacy so (after complaining) they respected that, and maybe one of the team members sees hotch and bau!reader kissing in the hallway of a hotel or something and confront him about cheating on his wife

"How could you cheat on your wife?"

Penelope's harsh, degrading accusation hits Aaron directly in the chest, through the layers of stoicism that he's come to forge over the years of working in criminal investigation and straight to his heart.

All Hotch can manage is a, "What?", and Penelope's eyes dim further.

"Don't do that, Hotch. I saw you. I saw you and Y/N kissing in your office. How could you do that to your wife?"

She looks so crestfallen that Aaron's chest actually aches, so unprepared to see the famously bubbly Penelope Garcia close to tears. Close to tears because of him, no less.

Aaron might have chosen his words more carefully if he hadn't been so startled by Penelope's unusual devastation, but his jumbled brain forgoes its job and his mouth takes over, uttering the thoughtless statement, "That's- that's what she's there for."

And in his mind, it's true, if not the complete truth. You are there for him to kiss, you're there to be kissed and loved and appreciated and cherished, but he's momentarily forgotten that Penelope doesn't know that you and his mystery wife are the same person, and his words so easily warp into possessiveness and disregard.

Her face contorts into a mixture of disgust and rage that could take out a serial killer, and he seriously considers recruiting her as Chief Lecturer of the BAU, "Hotch? How- how could you say that? That your wife is just- just some thing to wait on you while you run off with someone else? You- Aaron, I can't believe you, I thought you were better than that!"

She tries storming away, tears budding in her eyes but Aaron catches her elbow, ignoring the way she flails and squirms at his touch.

"Let go of me!" She tearily demands, but he grabs her by the other arm now, holding both of her shoulders.

"No, Penelope, listen-" He tries, reminding himself to send her to Derek later for a self-defense lesson, because the weak shoves that she's pushing at his chest with do very little.

"No! No, I'm tired of listening to men," She shrieks, "You were supposed to be better than that, Aaron! I trusted you, you were supposed to be the kind of man that I could admire, and- but you're not! You're just like the rest of them, you're some egotistical, possessive, heavy-handed, domineering son of a-!"

"Y/N is my wife." Aaron cuts her off, his voice slightly raised, but not harsh. Never harsh, not to the sniffling mess of ruffles and glitter in his arms that handed him her resume on pink stationary all those years ago.

She falls silent, finally, but her lips still tremble. Aaron squeezes her arms tighter, not rough but comforting, "Y/N is my wife. We married privately late last year. We kept it secret for safety reasons, but I'll admit we didn't need to hide it from all of you. I was not cheating on my wife, I would never-" He thinks momentarily of Haley, of the gut-wrenching sound of her cell phone ringing with a call she wasn't brave enough to answer in front of him, "I would never do that to Y/N."

It's a lot of new information to process, and Aaron grants Penelope all the time she needs to work through it. When her red-stained lips part again she breathes, "You married Y/N?"

"I did." Aaron nods, and though it's not the time to smile, he can't help that a ghostly one flits over his features at the mere thought of the day he'd married you, "I'll show you pictures when we're done here. Penelope, you can trust me. I don't blame you for accusing me- in fact, I'm glad that you did. I'm glad that your loyalty isn't blind. But Y/N is my wife, and that's why I kissed her."

A very wobbly, "Oh." Is all that Penelope can manage, and she sniffles again, staring at his tie rather than his face as he holds her steady in the hallway. He's glad that they've both shown up early for the day, but you're due to return with coffee for the three of you any minute now, and he offers her his pocket square to wipe beneath her eyes.

"You said-" She chokes out sheepishly, voice unsteady as she smears the tears off of her cheeks, "You said you have pictures?"

That's how you find them when you return, seated on the couch in his office peering down at his phone. You have to set the tray you'd been carrying down on Aaron's desktop before you can properly greet either of them, but you're immediately alarmed by the tears streaked over Garcia's cheeks when she stands to face you.

"You-" She starts, not giving you a second to speak, "-are a rat! You got married," She gushes, and Aaron chuckles deeply from beside her, standing and pocketing his phone.

"You got married to our boss, and you told me nothing," She hisses, but slumps so easily into your chest for a hug that you're more than willing to give her.

"I'm sorry, Penny," You gush, squeezing her tight, "We just- we were worried about safety. The more people we told, the more dangerous it would become, so we didn't share it with anyone. But- but we should have told the team, I know."

She sniffles and you draw back to pick up her drink from behind you, sugary and pink and topped with a thick layer of whipped cream, "I got you a drink. Forgive me?"

"Reluctantly," She tries scowling, but she's never been very good at it. She takes the drink from you huffily, jamming the straw inside and taking a drag at the thick liquid. It's barely nine in the morning, far too early for the concoction she's sipping, but she nods after she draws back from the straw.

"This is delicious," She decides, "And you two are traitors, and I'm telling everyone about this."

"You should," Aaron laughs, stepping up behind you to press his shoulder to your own. It's comforting just having him there, and you relax against him as Penelope takes her leave.

"I mean it," She warns, wiping another stray tear from her cheek and sipping at her strawberry drink, "I'm telling everyone. I'm- I'm gonna hire some guy to fly a plane over the city, and the banner is gonna say, 'Y//N Y/L/N and Aaron Hotchner got married without me'."

"That's fair," You nod, not bothering to bite back a grin as she lingers in the doorway of Aaron's office.

"And so help me god," She narrows her eyes at you, once more falling just short of intimidating, "If you try to take some extended-sick-leave time, and I find out you're hiding a pregnancy from me? No amount of frappuccinos in the world will make up for it!"

"Noted," You call out as she leaves, and Aaron's hand comes up to press against the near-indiscernible bulge of your belly before the door even clicks shut.

"She's good." Aaron observes, and you reach for your own non-caffeinated drink with a grin that's hard to drink through.

"Let's tell her about the baby at lunch," You propose, "I think she's more than earned a secret to keep."

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zaczenemiji · 5 months ago

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Can you do a spiderwomen x kenji sato. Maybe she was sent to retrieve emi and then got caught by kenji, and she was put into a jail like thing. So now she's just stuck there. She starts flirting with him. If yk what i mean 😏👉🏿👈🏿🎀💓🌸

Have an ice cream cone. 🍦

Thanks ♡♡♡♡

Kaiju Heist

Kenji Sato x Spiderwoman!Reader

Word Count: 1,066

Genre/Warnings: Anti-hero, Flirting, Imprisonment, Morally Grey/Ambiguous Reader

Author’s Note: This one was a bit challenging, I hope it’s to your liking. Thank you for the ice cream, I offer you this fic.

MASTERLIST

Your plan was simple: sneak in, grab the baby kaiju, and get out. But things rarely went according to plan.

Let’s begin where it all started—that damn spider.

Long story short, your parents were scientists doing experiments on radioactive spiders. You help in their lab and one day, an earthquake enormous kaiju shook the city, causing a containment breach. The next thing you know, a particularly aggressive spider bit your hand.

Of course, you gained extraordinary abilities. Others would’ve loved this and used them for good—be like Ultraman or whatever. But to you, it’s more like a curse. Seriously, you didn’t ask for this so ain’t no way were you going to become a selfless heroine.

So you did nothing with your abilities; you didn’t hone it whatsoever. You looked at it as if it’s just another arm that grew out of your body. Like grabbing a bag of chips from across the room, you’d shoot spider webs out to get it without standing.

Despite living your life as privately as you could, somehow, the Kaiju Defense Force was still able to find you. So here you are now, in their headquarters.

You stood there, arms crossed. “I’ve told you before, Dr. Onda,” you said. “I’m not looking to be a hero. I just want to be left alone.”

Dr. Onda, chief officer of the KDF, and old acquaintance of your parents, leaned forward. “I know. But this isn’t about heroism,” he replied. “This is a highly sensitive mission and you’re the only one who can pull it off.”

"And why should I care?" you replied coolly. "What's in it for me?"

"Payment, of course. A substantial one. Enough to ensure you can continue living the peaceful life you desire without any further interference from us,” Dr. Onda answered.

“And more importantly, it's a one-time deal. Complete this mission, and you'll never hear from the KDF again."

Your face expressed a guarded neutrality but inside, you found it so tempting—the promise of financial security and freedom from future obligations.

“What’s the job?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Dr. Onda tapped a few keys on his desk console, and a holographic image of a baby kaiju appeared, rotating slowly.

“It’s an entity of importance for the goals of KDF to be fulfilled,” he said. “Recently, it fell into the hands of Kenji Sato. We need you to retrieve it and bring it back to us.”

You studied the hologram, noting the details. "And how exactly am I supposed to move a 20-foot-tall kaiju baby without causing a scene?"

Dr. Onda leaned back, a small smile playing on his lips. "We have a special containment unit designed specifically for it. It's portable and can be deployed with your help. Your task is to get close enough to activate it and secure the kaiju.”

"And the payment?" you pressed.

Dr. Onda named a figure that made your eyes widen slightly. It was more than enough to ensure your financial independence for years to come.

"Alright," you said finally. "I'll do it. But remember, this is a one-time deal. After this, I want nothing more to do with the KDF."

Dr. Onda smiled, “You have my word."

You turned to leave but paused at the door, and glanced back. "I hope you're right about this, Dr. Onda,” you said. “Because if this goes sideways, I won't be the one paying the price."

Going back to the present—here you are, in Kenji Sato’s basement, trapped in a cylindrical glass containment unit, similar to the one the baby kaiju you were supposed to retrieve was held in.

A floating spherical robot circled around you. “We knew they would send someone,” it said in a mechanically feminine voice.

Suddenly, it projected a red light over your body, scanning you. “But I didn’t expect a spider-woman.”

You pressed your hands against the glass, testing its strength. "Nice trap," you said. “But it's going to take more than that to keep me here."

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” a voice came out of nowhere. Turning around, you see THE Kenji Sato with an eyebrow raised and his gaze locked with yours.

The biggest mystery that bothered you upon accepting this mission was how the hell did this famous baseball star had a giant baby in his basement.

You leaned back, crossing your arms over your chest. "So, what's the plan, Kenji? Keep me here forever?” you asked. “Or do you have something else in mind?"

Kenji smirked. "Depends. Why are you here?"

"Why do you think?" you replied, your tone flirtatious. "I was sent to retrieve that kaiju baby. But now, it seems I've found something else worth my attention."

Kenji's eyes narrowed slightly, "And what might that be?"

You gave him a slow, knowing smile. "You, of course,” you answered. “You're much more interesting than a simple retrieval mission."

Kenji chuckled, though he tried to hide it. "Flirting isn't going to get you out of there."

"Maybe not," you conceded, stepping closer to the glass, "But it does make this whole situation a lot more entertaining, don't you think?"

Kenji took a step closer, his eyes studying you. "You're not what I expected."

You tilted your head, your smile widening. "Good. I'd hate to be predictable."

There was a moment of silence as the two of you sized each other up. Finally, Kenji spoke. "You know, if you weren't here to take Emi, we might have been able to get along."

"Oh, I think we still can," you said, your voice low and seductive. "Besides, I never said I was strictly here for Emi."

Kenji looked at you, his expression softening just a fraction. "And what if I let you out?"

You pressed yourself against the glass, your eyes locked on his. "Then maybe, just maybe, we can help each other."

Kenji pondered this for a moment before shaking his head. "Nice try,” he said. “But I need to know more about you before I make that decision."

"Fair enough," you replied, leaning back once more. "But remember, Kenji, sometimes the spider catches more than just her prey."

Kenji turned away, a small smile playing on his lips. "We'll see about that."

You didn’t wanna include this in your escape plan because things rarely went according to plan. But in your mind, you noted: flirt, make him fall for you, and escape.

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@moonlight-starlight-lady01 @eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan

#kenji sato x reader #kenji sato #ken sato x reader #ken sato #emi ultraman #ultraman: rising #ultraman #fanfiction #oneshot #spider woman #spider verse

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 month ago

Text

Not-So Secretive Rendezvous

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: smut, fem!receiving, age gap

Request by anon: I'd love a Spencer X Fem Reader thing, say season 3-4 prince charming hair version ya know? That era is totally hot. Anyway, reader is Hotch's sister or Daughter, 10 year age gap between reader & Spence. I'm a total sucker for a forbidden, sneaking, secretive thing with them getting caught in a very compromising position. Hotch is fine with it but disappointed they didn't clear it with him. Maybe she works in the BAU but maybe not? Some hot spice with his awkward self. I always have a thought of him being so awkward around women in social situations like with JJ in the baseball game stuff, but with his Eidetic memory he definitely knows how to please women for sure. Any other details i'll leave you with free rein!

Summary: You and Spencer are a new couple that is hiding your relationship from the team for two reasons. Hotch is your dad and Spencer is ten years older than you are. That doesn’t stop you from being with him. Not your dad and certainly not an office full of people.

Square Filled: public sex/voyeurism (2021) for @cm-kinkbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

There are two reasons why you’re at the BAU--Spencer and Hotch. This is the place you want to work when you have the proper training and have done everything that’s required of you. You graduated high school before summer started and now you’re taking college classes with a degree in criminal justice while also getting in some hours at the police academy. It doesn’t hurt that your dad is the unit chief of the BAU, but you try not to let that affect how well you’re doing in and out of school.

The other reason is Spencer Reid. You two immediately hit it off when you first met and he’s been showing you around as much as he can without getting in trouble. He can’t tell you much about the cases the team has but he can give you advice and pointers for when you get a job here. Derek helps you with the physical stuff while Spencer is your own personal library book that just so happens to have all the answers you’re searching for.

After a few months of visiting your dad and the team, you and Spencer developed a relationship that only you two know about. Keeping your relationships a secret isn’t something you normally do because if you like someone, you’re all about showing them off to everyone. However, you and Spencer are ten years apart in age, and you don’t think your dad will appreciate his eighteen-year-old daughter hooking up with his twenty-eight-year-old subordinate.

It’s not a big deal to you and Spencer since you’re not newly eighteen. It’s September and you turned eighteen back in January. He’s been so good to you and is such a gentleman. He’s a romantic and loves taking you out on dates as much as he can. Your favorite date is when he puts a tent on the roof of his building, makes everything for a picnic, and you two spend the night stargazing there.

Unlike now when your visit is anything but romantic.

It’s been over a week since you’ve seen Spencer and you’re craving his touch. You’re not normally a sex-crazed teenager but you’re ovulating and you really need to feel his body on yours. You’re not ready for kids and you don’t know if or when you will be, so you’ll be using condoms because it’s a terrible time to get pregnant.

Not to mention your dad will quite literally kill Spencer.

“Hey, Y/N, what are you doing here?” Derek asks when he sees you.

“Just wanted to stop by to say hi. I hear the B Team is out right now so what better time to come?”

“Your dad is in his office.”

“Where’s Spencer.”

“Bathroom.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for him. Thanks.”

You turn to leave but Derek stops you.

“Hey, we’re still on for tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I’m ready to learn that new self-defense technique.”

You walk straight for Spencer’s desk only to walk right past it and toward the bathrooms. Derek smirks and shakes his head knowing you’re not here to see your dad at all. Spencer comes out of the bathroom with his phone in his hand so he doesn’t see you right away. You open the door to an empty office and wait for him to pass by it before grabbing his arm and pulling him inside.

“Wha--?” He looks up and smiles when he sees it’s you. “Hey, baby. I didn’t know you were coming today.” You close and lock the door before shutting the blinds so that no one can look inside. “What are you doing?”

“Come here.”

You pull Spencer in and kiss him without warning, and he grips your hips not too hard. He gets lost in the kiss before the alarm bells ring in his head.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Spencer pulls away from you but you’re not done kissing him. You back up into the desk and sit on it while kissing down his neck. “Not that I’m not happy to see you but we can’t do this here.”

“Why not? Don’t you want me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then get me naked and fuck me.” It’s hard to think when all Spencer is thinking about is getting you naked. He’s not a sex machine who wants it all the time but it has been a week since he’s seen you, and the last case he went on was very stressful. “School has been stressing me out and I really just want some dirty sex with you.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. He spreads your legs and steps in between them before kissing you again. He runs his hands down your thighs and back up, only to slip them underneath your dress. You wanted to make sure you gave Spencer easy access. He expected to feel a barrier between his fingers and your pussy but there is none.

“You’re not wearing any panties?”

“I came here for one thing and one thing only,” you grin. “I wanted to make this easier for you.”

Spencer rolls his head back and cracks his neck before sinking to his knees. He’s not an expert in this department but he’s read enough books and watched enough amateur porn to know what he’s doing. He places a hand on your chest, pushes you down onto the desk, and bunches your dress around your waist.

“Remember, we’re at work and your dad’s office is right down the hall. You gotta be quiet.”

You’re about to respond when Spencer latches onto your clit. You slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the moan that slips out. It would be a disaster if your dad found out about this… or anyone. He kitten licks your clit and circles it before sliding his tongue down to your slit. He straightens his tongue and pushes inside of you, and his right-hand hooks up and over your leg so that he can rub your clit in hard fast circles.

“Fuck, Spencer, right there,” you gasp quietly.

“God, you taste so good,” he mumbles. “I can’t ever get enough.”

You reach down and slide your fingers into his hair before tugging on it gently. This is the exact reason why he’s been growing his hair out. He loves it when you tug on his hair. His mouth and fingers switch positions so that he’s sucking on your clit and sliding a finger into your tight hole. You squeal a bit loudly at the sudden change in pressure, and you bite down on your lower lip to prevent yourself from crying out again.

“Please, Spencer, I need more,” you moan.

He slides in another finger and curls them both so that he’s touching the spot that makes you see stars.

“Are you close?”

“Yes, fuck, yes.”

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes, please, Spencer,” you moan.

“Go ahead, darling.”

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit that makes you come all over his face. He removes his fingers and laps up every drop you give him before standing to his full height.

“God, you’re so good at that.” You pull him down and kiss him, not minding that you can taste yourself on his lips. “I need to come again. I have a condom in the pocket of my dress.”

“You’re so needy,” he grins but doesn’t refuse you.

He pulls away and takes the condom you give him before unbuckling his pants. He’s always awkward at this part because he still can’t believe that he has someone who is interested in him like this. He’s not ripped like Derek or as confident as him but you like him because he’s none of those things. You love how socially awkward he is. You love his ramblings. You especially love it when he tells you random facts that have you questioning how he came to know that in the first place.

Spencer pulls his cock out and you almost salivate at the sight of it. You’ve given him blow jobs before but there will never be a time when you don’t want to suck him off. However this time, you just need him to be in you. He takes out the condom from the package and carefully rolls it onto his hard cock.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, Spencer, please. Just get in me.”

You spread your legs wider and allow him to step closer to you. He pumps himself twice before lining himself up at your entrance. You toss your head back and gasp at the one… three… seven inches of him until he is fully seated inside of you.

“Let me know when you’re ready,” Spencer groans.

“I’m ready. Please, Spencer,” you beg.

He doesn’t want to be too loud so he doesn’t fuck you as hard as he wants to. He starts at a normal pace before slowly picking up speed, and you’re trying to stop the moans from coming out but failing. He covers your mouth with his hand as if that will stop you from moaning his name.

It’s been a long and stressful time for you both so it doesn’t take long for the two of you to get close to the edge.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” Hearing Spencer swear when he normally doesn’t is so hot. He hates swearing since he has such a big range of vocabulary that he can use, but he can’t help it when you feel like Heaven. “Are you close?” You nod wordlessly since Spencer’s hand is still over your mouth. “Come with me. One.” Thrust. “Two.” Thrust. “Three.”

You explode all over him just as he fills the condom up. He rides out both your highs as much as he can before slowing down. He removes his hand and you gasp when you feel him start to pull out of you.

“I don’t know how you haven’t had more girlfriends before,” you laugh as you pant.

“It’s usually my incessant need to ramble that drives them away.”

He takes the condom off and ties it at the end before pocketing it., He doesn’t want anyone to find it in the trashcan so he’ll throw it out in the dumpster outside.

“Have you seen Y/N? I saw her come in earlier.”

You freeze when you hear your dad’s voice outside the office.

“I think she went to see Garcia. You should ask her,” Rossi responds from right by the door. You hear your dad walk away before Rossi knocks twice on the door. “You two aren’t very quiet or sneaky.”

“Shit, I should go,” you giggle. You fix your dress and Spencer tucks himself back into his pants. The room smells like sex but you’re sure it will air out by the time anyone else comes in here. “I love you and I can’t wait to see you on Sunday.”

You lean in and kiss Spencer before unlocking the door.

“I love you, too,” Spencer grins. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Oh, we definitely are.” You open the door and notice Rossi is in the break room. You make sure the coast is clear before leaving the office. You turn the corner and go crashing into your dad. “Daddy, hi. I was just looking for you. Someone said you wanted to see me?”

Hotch looks up and sees Spencer leave the office from which you just came out. He didn’t bother fixing his hair as much as he should have so it’s a big messed up from how much you were tugging on it, and your lipstick is a bit smudged from Spencer’s hand over your mouth.

Hotch isn’t an idiot.

“My office. Now.”

You look up to see him looking at someone behind you. You look back and see Spencer staring at Hotch with wide, fearful eyes.

“Daddy, listen--”

“Don’t you have a class to go study for? Reid, now.”

“Yes, sir,” he nods and scurries past you to get to his office.

“Daddy, I love him. Please don’t kill him. I’ll talk to you later.”

You leave before your dad can say anything else. Hotch isn’t mad that Spencer is seeing his daughter. He’s upset that you two hid it from him. He’s not gonna kill Spencer but it is sure going to be fun to watch him squirm because he thinks he is.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fictino #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fan fiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fiction #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fan fic

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adalindofcabinsix · 5 months ago

Text

that kind of love never dies | chapter one

summary: the one where barbara thinks about an act of rebellion.

pairing: jake x mc

word count: 1.3K

warnings: tkolnd takes place after the events of episode 10; cover images found on pinterest; english is not my first language.

author’s note: even though she lives in the usa, my main character, barbara, is brazilian. i added terms and expressions that we use in our country, as well as cultural elements, to this fanfic. the words that appear in portuguese are highlighted and you can contact me if you have any questions.

masterlist

Barbara was sprawled out on the dorm carpet, reading a Lucy Maud Montgomery novel she found by chance in the university library, when her cell phone began vibrating on the nightstand. Without wasting time, she closed the book and got up, waiting to hear from her roommate, Meera, but, when Barbara swiped her finger across the lock screen, she found some text messages from an unknown number.

i would like to invite you again to eat something at that chinese restaurant

if you want to meet me, just show up there tomorrow

i'll be waiting for you :)

Her head started to throb just at the possibility of it being who she was imagining, but she quickly pushed the thought away.

Jake wouldn't put himself in danger like that.

After everything that happened in Grimrock, Duskwood's chief of police, Alan Bloomgate, personally went after her to conduct the interrogation, and, more than once, made it very clear that it was best for her to stay away from her new friends for a while. He didn't go into detail when he told her about what happened at the Ironsplinter Mine, but he confirmed that Richy was alive — despite having some serious injuries — and that Jake had fled from the FBI agents during the confusion caused by the explosion.

All the messages she sent and received during that time became evidence. Barbara had what it took to close Hannah Donfort's case literally in the palm of her hand, including the kidnapper's confession.

Consequently, she also had the means that could lead the people who were after Jake straight to him.

She was interrogated by the FBI countless times for months, until Alan decided to intervene and convinced her to hand over her cell phone to them in exchange for her old life. Since then, Barbara has not been part of the joint investigation. Or at least that's what they say — she's too smart to really believe that.

For a few seconds, she considered the chance that it was someone trying to play a trick on her. The video Lilly Donfort posted accusing her of kidnapping had gone viral across the Columbia University campus. Even her grandmother, who lived in the interior of Brazil, found out about her involvement with a hacker wanted by the North American government. However, no one else knew about the brief conversation they had about the chinese restaurant.

Except, of course, the FBI.

Without a doubt, it was a trap. Barbara felt her face turn red. It seemed that solving an old international murder case, giving up her privacy, being forced to abandon her group of friends and possibly cheating on the guy she was in love with was not enough. She also needed to act as bait when it was convenient.

Barbara huffed, irritated. Little did they know that Jake had no contact. Their partnership in crime had ended almost a year ago.

Still, there was no reason to decline the invitation. She could very well take advantage of the opportunity to tell some truths to those nosy agents, and as a bonus she would have an excuse to go to Germany without Alan being able to question her too openly.

Her lips lifted into a smile as the plan emerged in her mind.

After going through customs at Zurich Airport, picking up luggage and going to an exchange office to exchange some notes, only an hour and fifteen minutes by car separated Barbara from Duskwood. Luckily, there were several yellow taxis forming a line next to the sidewalk, because it would be a nightmare to have to deal with someone trying to compete for the same vehicle as her.

She walked out of the lounge, pulling her hot pink rolling suitcase, and turned on her smartphone to announce on the family's group chat that she had arrived safely. But before she could check her contact list to see if her parents were online, she collided with a young man's broad chest.

She jumped away from him, apologizing — or at least trying to — in german. He laughed softly, grabbing her arm to stop her from tripping over herself, and for a moment, Barbara forgot to even breathe. The young man seemed to be a few years older than her, he was tall, had dark hair and prominent round eyes that resembled the curve of a teardrop, he was wearing a white sweatshirt with a hood and black jeans.

“I'm sorry, I didn't see you.” He spoke in english, with a slight accent.

“No problem, it was my fault.” Barbara quickly straightened up, realizing that she had somehow stared too long.

The young man analyzed her from head to toe with amusement before bending down and picking up the cell phone that had flown out of her hand during the impact.

“I believe this is yours.” He joked, handing the device to her.

“Thank you.”

He nodded curtly and turned, making his way through the travelers entering and exiting the airport, as silent as a wraith.

She was inexplicably disappointed to see him leave, however she had more important things to deal with. Then, she handed the luggage to the driver to put in the trunk and got into the taxi, giving the address of the Gates Hotel, on the outskirts of Duskwood.

Barbara ran across the room, feeling the cold floor beneath her feet. She was considerably late, but as far as she remembered, she had never arrived on time to participate in the interrogations, so whoever was waiting for her at the restaurant wouldn't mind too much. She put on a black strapless dress, put on her highest heels and curled her wet hair with her fingers, leaving a small trail of water on the floor.

Through an opening in the peach curtains, she noticed that the rain had picked up outside, beating violently against the window pane. She cursed under her breath, hoping someone at the front desk could lend her an umbrella, and before Barbara could procrastinate her meeting with the FBI Special Agent any further, she took one last look at the floor mirror near the entrance hall, realizing that she was dressed for revenge.

“Someone would definitely approve of that.”

Smiling to herself, she went down a small flight of stairs to the ground floor, where the girl at the reception was reading a magazine with Nicholas Galitzine's photo on the cover.

“How can I help you?” She asked in english, without taking her eyes off the celebrity gossip.

“Hey, how you doin'? Could you lend me an umbrella, please?”

“Of course.” She said, reaching for the object under the counter and handing it to her. “A fee of two euros will be added to your room bill.” Barbara sighed, surprised, as she mentally converted the currency. “What?” The receptionist looked up, frowning. “Did you think it would be free?”

“No, obviously not.” Barbara lied, smiling politely.

“Return it by midnight or I will have to charge the full value of the item.” The girl announced, turning her attention to the magazine. Then she added: “Nice dress.”

“Okay, I'll pay when I check out.” She assured, walking towards the glass doors while opening her rented umbrella. “And thank you.”

“Have fun, Cinderella!”

Barbara regretted walking out the door as soon as she set foot on the sidewalk. Not just because of the rain, but because of the wind blowing your hair back. In any case, she had come too far to give up, and despite the storm, she could see the lights of the chinese restaurant through the blue haze a few meters ahead, on the other side of the street.

Before she could take another step, someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.

“What?” She blinked in amazement at the handsome young man she had met at the airport.

“Come with me.” He said, pulling her away from the hotel entrance.

“You are crazy? I do not know you!” Barbara shouted, dropping the umbrella near her feet. The rain completely drenched them both in moments. “Me solta!”

“Barbara, please.” He asked, breathing short.

The sadness in his voice stopped her struggling.

“How do you…?” She gasped, eyes wide. “Jake?”

taglist: @daniiiworlds; @labemquarts; @deinily

#iamjake #duskwood #moonvale #everbyte studio #jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction

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hoe4hotchner · 3 months ago

Note

Hii I just started criminal minds this month and ofc I HAD to run to tumblr when I saw Aaron Hotchner and I came across your blog and I really really love your writing !!

So I wanted to ask a one shot with him about an anemic reader (fem if possible) who forgot to take her med or to eat on a case and she gets dizzy but brush it off and continue working but hotch notice 🙏🏽

(Ignore if you’re not comfortable writing it ofc)

Watchful Eyes

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Light use of Y/N, dizziness, forgetting to take meds.

Requests can be send here

The sun was high, casting sharp shadows on the ground as the team spread out through the small town, gathering evidence and interviewing witnesses. It was the third day of their investigation, and everyone was feeling the strain, especially you. You'd been running on fumes, forgetting to eat properly, and skipping your medication a few times in the rush of trying to catch the unsub in time before his next victim was brutally murdered.

Pushing aside the foggy feeling in your head, you focused on the task at hand, sifting through piles of case files at the local police station, where the team had set up their field office. Your vision blurred for a moment as you tried to focus on the words in front of you. Shaking your head slightly, you tried to clear it away.

"You okay?" JJ asked, glancing over at you from a desk nearby.

"Yeah, just a bit tired," you replied with a forced smile. "I'll be fine."

But as you stood up to grab another file, the room seemed to rock. You reached out, gripping the edge of the desk in an attempt to steady yourself, but quickly brushed it off trying to power through it. There was no time to be weak. The team needed every set of hands, and you couldn't afford to slow down, not now.

Hotch appeared in the doorway from the chief of police's office, his presence commanding as always. "(Y/N), can you come with me to the crime scene? I could use an extra pair of eyes?"

You hesitated for a moment, the dizziness still lingering at the edges of your consciousness, but nodded not wanting him to notice. "Of course, Hotch. Just let me grab my things."

He watched you closely, noticing the slight hesitation and the way you braced yourself against the table. He was the chief after all. Hotch didn’t say anything, simply waiting for you to collect your belongings before leading the way out. As you stepped into the sunlight, the cool air hit you, and you did your best to shake off the unease, determined to keep up with your boss the best you could.

Hotch stood outside the suspected unsub's house, a deep furrow in his brow as he spoke into his earpiece. "Reid, I need you and Morgan to double-check the timelines with the victims' families. Prentiss, head back to the station and go over the CCTV footage again with the local officers. We might have missed something." He directed the team, trying to make sense of the case so far.

"Got it, Hotch," came the chorus of replies.

Hotch glanced down at his watch. Time was slipping away, and you needed a breakthrough soon. As he disconnected the call, he spotted you across the street, your figure slightly hunched over as you scribbled notes from a witness. Something about your posture made him frown. You looked pale, almost ghostly under the harsh sunlight, and there was a slight tremor in your hands as you took the notes.

His eyes narrowed. He knew the signs, he had seen them before. The stress, the exhaustion, the faint sheen of sweat on your brow despite the cool breeze. His instincts told him something was wrong.

Making his way over, he approached just as you swayed on your feet, your hand reaching out to the wall for support.

"(Y/N)," he said, his voice low but firm, drawing your attention. "Are you alright?"

You blinked up at him, trying to muster a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Hotch. Just a little light-headed. It's nothing."

Hotch wasn't convinced. He stepped closer, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of serious distress. "When was the last time you ate?" He asked, aware of your condition from your personnel file.

"I… I don't know, this morning, maybe?" You admitted, your voice wavering. You knew it was of no use lying to him. He was far too good at his job for that to work.

"And your medication?"

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling small under his intense gaze. "I might have forgotten…"

Hotch let out a quiet sigh, concern etched in his features. "You know you can't skip those. You're not doing anyone any favors by pushing yourself like this."

Before you could protest, Hotch’s hand reached out, gently but firmly taking the files from your hands. The gesture was commanding yet tender, leaving no room for resistance. He looked down at you with a mixture of concern and resolve, his dark eyes searching yours for any sign of defiance. When he spoke, his voice was calm but laced with an authority that you knew better than to challenge.

"That's it," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You're grounded to the field office until you’re feeling better. No more pushing through or pretending you're fine."

He held your gaze, making sure his words sank in as if daring you to argue and make your "punishment" even worse, potentially pulling completely off the case. You felt a wave of frustration rise in your chest, you didn’t want to be sidelined, not when the team needed you. But beneath the frustration, there was also a sense of relief. Hotch wasn’t just issuing orders; he was looking out for you, protecting you from yourself when you couldn’t see past the immediate demands of the job.

"Hotch, I—"

"No arguments," he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for debate. "I'm not risking your health. Not on my watch." He continued, softer now, almost gentle. "I can’t have you out there in this condition. Not when it’s clear you’re struggling. The case can wait; your health can’t."

As you stood there, the weight of his words settled over you, and you realized there was no point in fighting it. Hotch wasn’t just your superior; he was someone who cared enough to make sure you took care of yourself, even when you wouldn't. You opened your mouth to argue, but the world tilted for the second time today, and you found yourself grateful for his firm grip on your arm, steadying you.

"Come on," he said softly, leading you back to the car to drive you back to the field office. "You're sitting down when we get back, drinking some water, and taking your meds. We'll figure out the case, but we need you healthy to do that."

Once you were back at the field office, the busy atmosphere felt distant as Hotch guided you to a chair in a quieter spot. He kept a steady hand on your back, making sure you were okay as you sat down, feeling more tired than you'd wanted to admit.

Hotch quickly grabbed a bottle of water from the nearby cooler. Without saying a word, he opened it and handed it to you, his eyes never leaving you. The way he watched you, so carefully, as if worried you might collapse, it made you feel both comforted and a bit embarrassed. You knew he was just being responsible, but his concern was clear.

As you took a sip of water, it helped ease the dryness in your throat, but it didn’t stop the awkwardness you felt under his watchful gaze. You looked down at the bottle, trying to avoid his eyes.

"I'm fine, really," you mumbled, your voice quiet as you tried to reassure him, though you weren't entirely sure yourself.

Hotch knelt beside you, so you were at the same level, his expression soft and understanding. "I know you are," he said gently, but with a firmness that showed he wasn’t going to let this go. "But you need to take care of yourself, (Y/N). We all need you at your best."

His words were simple, but they carried a lot of meaning. It wasn’t just about the work, they needed you to be okay. And he wasn’t going to let you ignore your health again. His concern made you realize how much he and the team cared, not just about the job, but about you as a person. You nodded, a small smile finally breaking through, feeling a bit better knowing you weren't facing this alone.

You nodded, the dizziness starting to fade now that you were sitting. "Thanks, Hotch."

He gave you a small, rare smile. "Just doing my job."

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ama0310 · 4 months ago

Text

Bubblegum Bitch

Character: Aaron Hotchner

Requested: No

Type: Song Fic, Angst/Fluff

Summary: Hotch never thought he'd fall in love again—until he met Y/N.

Author's Note: Based on Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA

***************************

Meeting the Unit Chief should have been terrifying, but for you, it was exhilarating. Strauss had recently transferred you to the BAU from the Counter-Terrorism Division.

You suspected she added you to the team to ruffle the Unit Chief's feathers. It might have bothered you if it hadn’t come with a nice bump in your paycheck.

The moment Hotch saw you, he knew you were trouble. He just didn't realize how much trouble until your very first case.

Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll Don't care if you think I'm dumb, I don't care at all

You stood before the mirror in a dingy motel bathroom, applying the finishing touches to your makeup. The skin-tight leather mini dress hugged every curve, transforming you into the perfect bait for the unsub who had been terrorizing local nightclubs.

Hotch's reflection appeared behind you, his face etched with worry. "Y/L/N, I really don't think you're ready for this."

You turned, cocking an eyebrow as you placed your hands on your hips. "And why is that, sir?"

Hotch's response was immediate and brutally honest. "You're still new, never been face-to-face with an unsub, let alone undercover. You're reckless, difficult to control, and frankly, a loose cannon. Need I go on?"

I'll chew you up and I'll spit you out

A smirk played at your lips as you sauntered towards him, invading his personal space. The scent of your perfume mingled with the tension in the air. "Look, Hotchie," you purred, noting how he stiffened at the nickname, "I was transferred here for a reason. I know what this job entails. So be my boss and let me do it."

You could see the internal struggle playing out behind Hotch's eyes. His professional concern warred with something else – an attraction he was clearly trying to suppress. You were a walking danger sign, and part of him was drawn to that fire.

"First," he said, his voice low and controlled, "don't call me that. Second, I'm not trying to offend you. I simply think Emily might be better suited for this operation. You can take points next time."

You scoffed, taking a step back. "Next time? With all due respect, sir, I fit the victimology perfectly, and you know it. I've spent the last hour transforming myself into exactly what this creep is looking for. If I don't do this, he'll likely claim another victim before we can catch him. So again, Hotchie," you emphasized the nickname, watching him bristle, "let me do my job. Don't make me have to disobey orders."

Without waiting for a response, you slipped on your stilettos and brushed past him, the warmth of your body tantalizingly close for a moment before you were gone.

Hotch watched you go, a mix of admiration and trepidation swirling in his gut. You were brilliant, fearless, and undeniably effective. But you were also unpredictable, pushing boundaries at every turn. As he followed you out, preparing to oversee the operation, one thought echoed in his mind:

Definitely trouble.

Candy bear, sweetie pie, wanna be adored I'm the girl you'd die for

Over the past few months, you had become the team's radiant beacon of positivity, your presence a cure for the often-dark nature of their work. Even the usually stoic Hotch, though he'd never admit it aloud, had fallen under your spell.

It was impossible not to be drawn to your infectious energy. Each morning, you breezed into the bullpen, a whirlwind of warmth and enthusiasm. Your greetings were accompanied by compliments, tailored to brighten each team member's day. After particularly grueling cases, the aroma of your famous blueberry muffins would fill the office, a comforting reminder that there was still sweetness in the world. You even patiently endured Spencer's lengthy tangents, sparing the others from information overload.

As the team prepared to head out for a new case, you sprinted across the parking lot, your laughter echoing off the concrete walls. "Shotgun!" you called out triumphantly, playfully shoving past Spencer to claim the coveted front seat next to Hotch.

Your friendship with the young doctor had blossomed quickly, bonded by your shared status as the "kids" of the team. While the others sometimes found his endless stream of facts overwhelming, you delighted in his knowledge, often engaging him in spirited debates that left the rest of the team both amused and bewildered.

The unit chief's lips twitched, fighting back a smile as he watched your antics. Spencer, mock indignation coloring his voice, appealed to their leader. "Hotch, come on! She rode shotgun last time. It's my turn, isn't it?"

Hotch cleared his throat, his tone stern but his eyes betraying a hint of amusement. "Y/N, you know the rules. It is indeed Reid's turn to sit up front."

You turned to face Hotch, unleashing the full power of your most irresistible puppy dog eyes. Your lower lip jutted out ever so slightly as you pleaded silently. Behind you, Spencer let out a resigned sigh, already knowing he'd lost this battle. Your ability to wrap Hotch around your finger was legendary among the team, even if the man himself was loath to acknowledge it.

Hotch held your gaze for a moment, visibly wavering. With a barely perceptible shake of his head, he started the engine, tacitly allowing you to keep your place.

Victorious, you twisted in your seat to face Spencer, sticking out your tongue in a childish display of triumph.

"Y/N!" Hotch's voice held a note of warning, though it lacked any real heat.

You straightened immediately, your voice dripping with faux innocence. "Sorry, sir!"

The apology was hollow, and you both knew it. As Hotch pulled out of the parking lot, you caught the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Your sunny persona had once again melted the ice around the unit chief's heart.

Oh, dear diary, I met a boy He made my doll heart light up with joy

The realization hit you like a thunderbolt – you were hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Aaron Hotchner. For the first time in your life, you felt a fear that chilled you to your core.

How could someone like him ever reciprocate such feelings? The cons seemed endless: a decade age gap, your extroverted nature clashing with his stoicism, your wild spirit at odds with his controlled demeanor. Not to mention the professional boundary – you were his employee, AND he was still navigating the aftermath of his recent divorce.

Your newfound awareness of your feelings for Hotch led to a desperate attempt at avoidance. It was hard, given how intertwined your lives had become over the months. For a week, you'd been dodging his texts, offering only cursory greetings, and maintaining a physical distance that felt painfully unnatural.

Hotch noticed the change immediately, and it gnawed at him. Your vibrant presence had become a constant in his life, a source of warmth he hadn't realized he'd come to depend on until it was suddenly gone.

He found himself missing the little rituals that had naturally developed between you. The morning car rides, once a practical solution to your car troubles, had evolved into a cherished start to each day. Your habit of bringing him a piece of candy during lunch breaks, with the excuse of "sweetening up his day," never failed to bring a smile to his face. Most of all, he missed the casual physical contact – the way you'd unconsciously place your hand on his arm when standing close, a gesture that grounded him more than he cared to admit.

As the week progressed, Hotch's concern deepened. Had he unknowingly offended you? He wracked his brain, trying to pinpoint any misstep. Perhaps the latest case had affected you more than usual, or maybe you were simply exhausted. Whatever the reason, he was determined to lift your spirits.

During his lunch break, Hotch made his way to your favorite café. The aroma of freshly baked goods enveloped him as he ordered your usual – a ham and cheese croissant and your preferred coffee blend. Back at the office, he noticed your empty desk and quickly left the bag before retreating to his office.

When you returned from the restroom, steeling yourself for an afternoon of paperwork, the sight of the familiar bag on your desk stopped you in your tracks. With trembling hands, you opened it to find the still-warm croissant and perfectly prepared coffee. Atop the container, a piece of candy was taped to a note that read: "To sweeten your day up! – Hotch"

Your heart swelled, a mix of joy and ache flooding your chest. Looking up, you caught Hotch watching you from his office window. Despite your best efforts to maintain distance, you couldn't help but offer him the radiant smile he'd come to cherish.

In that moment, the truth was undeniable. You were completely, utterly, and hopelessly in love with Aaron Hotchner. As your eyes locked with his, a flicker of something – hope, perhaps? – passed between you, hinting that maybe, just maybe, these obstacles weren't quite so impossible after all.

Oh, dear diary, we fell apart Welcome to the life of Electra Heart

Aaron Hotchner never imagined falling in love after Haley left. His life revolved around his job and Jack. He didn't need anyone else. That is, until you entered his life.

You were the first to sense something was wrong when he didn't answer his phone. Racing to his apartment, you found it covered in blood. With Penelope's help, you tracked him to a hospital, learning he'd been stabbed nine times.

When he opened his eyes and saw you, Hotch thought he'd died and gone to heaven. You looked angelic - an angel he couldn't bear to see harmed.

So when George Foyet shot him in his own home, Hotch realized he needed to end whatever was blossoming between you before you got hurt.

But you made it difficult.

The moment he was released, you were there every day, before and after work. Groceries, cleaning, anything to ease his burden. You knew how hard it was for him to send Haley and Jack away, how alone he must feel. You were determined to show him the team - and you - were there for him. For anything.

Driving him home after the Darrin Call case, where he'd recklessly entered a house without backup, your anger finally boiled over.

"What the hell were you thinking, Aaron?" you demanded, following him into his apartment. "No gun, no vest, no backup. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Hotch turned, his face a mask of stone. "I knew the profile. I had it under control."

"Under control?" you scoffed. "If it were anyone else, you'd have suspended them! This isn't you, Aaron. What's going on?"

His eyes flashed. "What's going on is I'm the Unit Chief, and I don't answer to you. I think before I act, unlike some people."

The barb stung. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said coldly. "Just find it ironic you're lecturing me on recklessness."

"I've never walked into a hostage situation alone and unarmed!" you countered.

"I don't have to explain myself," Hotch snapped. "Especially not to you. Get out."

Your eyes widened. "No. We're talking about this. You're spiraling, Aaron. This obsession with Foyet-"

"Stop. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know you're not alone in this!" you pleaded. "The team needs you. I need you."

Hotch laughed bitterly. "If you haven't noticed, I am alone. My son is gone. I have no one. And I won't rest until Foyet is dead."

Tears welled in your eyes. "You have us. You have me. We can figure this out together."

"There is no 'we,'" Hotch said, his voice cold and final. "There never was."

The words hit like a physical blow. "Don't say that. You know that's not true."

For a moment, his mask slipped, revealing the pain beneath. But then it was back, harder than ever. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression."

You stared at him, hurt turning to anger. "Go to hell, Hotchner," you spat, before storming out, leaving him alone with the wreckage of what might have been.

I'm Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips Hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss

Your relationship with Aaron had crumbled to dust. Since that night you stormed out of his apartment, you'd made it your mission to avoid him at all costs. Difficult, considering he was your boss.

You understood he was facing unimaginable challenges - the loss of his ex-wife, becoming a single parent. Part of you ached to support him, but you both needed space.

That space stretched into a year.

You'd left transfer papers on his desk days ago. Despite your love for the team, staying had become impossible. It wasn't fair to you or Hotch. Counter Terrorism Division beckoned - a fresh start.

You hadn't told the team yet, dreading their reactions. You'd become their wild, sassy, overdramatic little sister. But tonight wasn't about goodbyes. It was Spencer's birthday, and Derek had chosen a club to celebrate. You wouldn't miss it for the world.

Arriving in a hot pink mini dress and matching heels, you spotted the team immediately.

"Happy birthday, Boy Genius!" you exclaimed, hugging Spencer tight.

"Please," he whispered, "get me out of here. Derek's trying to set me up with his friend."

You laughed, ruffling his hair. "No can do, Spence. It's your night. Go crazy. I promise not to film anything too embarrassing."

Turning to greet the others, you froze. Hotch was there. You hugged everyone but him, pointedly avoiding his gaze.

"Damn, girl! You're on fire!" Penelope gushed, clearly tipsy.

Emily nodded appreciatively. "I'm borrowing those heels."

"You know how to make a girl feel special," you winked. "First round's on me!"

An hour later, you were dancing with Penelope and Spencer, the alcohol buzzing through your veins. Suddenly, Spencer spun you – right into Hotch's arms. You glared at Spencer, who mouthed 'Karma' with a smirk.

The tension was strong as you and Hotch swayed silently. You wanted to escape, yet craved his touch.

"You requested a transfer," he stated, his voice low.

You quirked an eyebrow. "Did you sign it?"

"No."

You pulled back, stunned. "What do you mean, no?"

"We need to talk first."

Anger flared. "You're unbelievable," you spat, pushing past him and out of the club. He followed close behind.

"Y/N, please-"

You whirled to face him. "There's nothing to say. It's been a year, Hotch. Whatever we had is dead."

"You don't mean that," he insisted, his eyes burning into yours.

The alcohol amplified your emotions. "I do. I'm over it. Over you. There's nothing left to talk about."

"Then I'll talk, and you listen," he said firmly, gripping your shoulders. "There was a 'we'. Everything I said that night – it was a lie. To keep you safe from Foyet. He was targeting everyone I loved. I couldn't risk losing you."

Your heart stuttered. "You... loved me?"

"I still do," he breathed, cupping your face. "This past year has been hell. Not having you by my side – our carpool chats, sneaking candy, just... you. It was torture. I'll do anything to earn your forgiveness."

You wanted to resist, to make him suffer longer. But the alcohol, the longing, the raw emotion in his voice – it was too much. You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his neck.

You both exhaled, tension melting away. It felt right. It felt like coming home.

"I love you too," you murmured, then pulled back with a stern look. "But you've got a lot of making up to do."

He pressed his forehead to yours. "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to. You deserve the world, Y/N, and I intend to give it to you."

Your lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, full of promise and the weight of a year apart.

As you parted, you whispered, "This doesn't mean I'm not still furious with you."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

I'm Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch

Again, you were trouble. Even after two years together, you definitely kept him on his toes. Not transferring and working alongside your boyfriend made for an interesting way to live.

“What you did was stupid and reckless, Y/N.” Aaron's voice was stern as the team boarded the jet to head back home. The case had been a success, but it came at the cost of you getting into the unsub’s car without any weapons. Fortunately, you had your team.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Y/N. I’m serious.”

“Ooooo, Mom and Dad are fighting,” Spencer teased from across the jet.

“Shut up, Spencer,” you snapped, making him raise his hands in mock surrender. Then, you turned to Hotch. “You know damn well I needed to get into his car. If I didn’t and you caught him, he would’ve acted like he was just trying to get with me.”

Aaron rubbed the side of his head. Migraines. You gave him migraines. “The plan was for you to walk down the street, and the moment you were alone with him, we would get him. You went rogue.”

You rolled your eyes again. “Well, technically we were alone, and you did get him.”

He was about to argue again, but you wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him your infamous puppy dog face. “Aaron, I’m okay. You know I did what I had to do to catch him. I’m sorry I worried you, but I’m not sorry for helping bring him in.”

He sighed, knowing you were right, and he could never stay mad at you. “I hated every second of it. My heart stopped the moment you got into that damn car.”

You smiled and pecked him on the lips. “Hey, you always said I was going to give you a heart attack.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes before he kissed you. “You have, and you most definitely will again.”

“Hey, that’s what you love about me.”

“That is true.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #ssa aaron hotchner #thomas gibson #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #Aaron Hotchner #bau team #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch x y/n

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luveline · 1 year ago

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jade i am begging on my knees ….. any time you are up for it …… it would make me very greatly happy to see something with a bombshell!reader x hotch <33333

The office is hot today in the midst of a ninety degree summer, and your coworkers have been forced to strip down to their lightest layers, the women in linen blouses, men with their shirt sleeves rolled up high. Spencer has ditched his sweater vest reluctantly, cooling himself with a makeshift fan fashioned from printer paper, and Emily huffs next to you at her desk, overwhelmed.

“How aren't you hot?” she demands to know.

You lean back in your chair with a demure smile. “Mind over matter.”

She rolls her eyes. “I shouldn't have asked.”

Hotch's office door opens. You turn in your chair to watch him appear —even Unit Chief's get hot, apparently. He looks flustered in the heat, pink-cheeked and hair skewed ever so slightly, the most unmade you've ever seen him at work.

You could get used to it.

He feels you looking, narrowing his eyes. You'd like to think it was playful. For Hotch, it is.

“Hot, handsome,” you say.

“I'm fine.”

“I wasn't asking.” You beam at him.

“Enough. You know the rules.”

He doesn't seem too mad, but he's right; you know the office rules. Don't flirt, don't start, and don't text him inside of work hours unless that text pertains to work itself. You'd started calling him instead —what are you wearing right now?— and he'd decided that text now meant any communication lest you find another loophole. You're pushing it.

“Ah, the rules,” you say, throwing your arm across your eyes in mock distress, before peeking under it to see if he's watching. He always is. “You know rules aren't made for people like me, handsome.”

“Stop it, final warning. Or I'll have you moved.”

He makes being his girlfriend very difficult. You roll your shoulders and drop the act. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Afterwards.”

“No, right now. Please? It's important, I swear.”

He gestures for you to come up. You take the stairs and cross the landing to his office, where he's already stepped back inside to open the window even further on its hinge. There isn't much wind to breeze, but there is a palpable difference between his office and the bullpen. You join him at the window and let the barely cooler air fan your face.

“What's wrong?” he asks.

“Can you give me a quick kiss? It would really lift my spirits.”

He laughs somewhere deep in his chest. “No, honey. Now tell me what you wanted to tell me.”

“I have a doctor's appointment next week, on the 13th. It's a Wednesday. I was hoping for PTO, but I can take a sick day if that's not agreeable.”

Hotch gives you the side eye, brows gently furrowed. “Everything okay?”

“Wouldn't you like to know.”

“I would, actually.”

“Yeah, well, you'll have to beg for it. Not everything in life is free, Hotchner–” You break into laughter as he grabs your waist, not expecting it, your hips tender as he squeezes. “Ouch, you're kinda handsy, you know that?”

You sound beautiful like this, laughing as you talk, so happy it lines every word. Hotch pulls your front to his, arms crossing casually behind your back, his eyes expectant. “Tell me,” he commands smoothly.

“Because you asked so nicely, I'm just fine, but I've been feeling a little under the weather. I think I'm anaemic.”

“And this is the first time I'm hearing about this because…”

“Because I'm not allowed to talk to you at work!”

He rolls his eyes as you drop a considerable amount of your weight against his arms. Usually, Hotch would meet your eyes and say, You're punishing me for a rule created out of necessity, or something to that effect, but, despite everything that might say otherwise, he really likes you. Loves you.

“I know, honey, I'm sorry. Maybe we can… allot you a few texts a day.” He analyses your expression. “One a day.”

You squeeze his naked forearm and lift up to kiss his cheek. He stays completely still while you do it, beside the small stroke of his thumb where it rests on your back. “Thank you. I'll leave you alone now, or we might get caught fraternising with one another and lose our jobs. Oh, wait, that's not actually going to happen–”

You burst out laughing as Hotch once again squeezes your waist in warning, the hint of a smile on his lips.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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dodger-chan · 3 months ago

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AO3 is down? Okay, well here's about 900 words of a story I don't think I'll ever finish

Edit: now on AO3

The Alibi

Clearing Eddie Munson’s name went against every instinct Jim had honed in his years as a cop. Munson was bad news. A drug dealer. A born criminal, in and out of Hawkins Police custody since he was a kid.

Admittedly, no small number of those early detentions were more about trying to track down his father than anything Munson had done himself. He’d been an uncooperative shit, though; always insisting he knew nothing while sporting bruises fresh enough to prove his old man hadn’t been gone very long.

If Jim hadn’t known for a fact the kid was completely innocent of the three murder charges. If he hadn’t been told by Henderson, both Sinclair kids, the good Wheeler, and Harrington and his girlfriend that Munson had been instrumental in beating back the monsters beneath Hawkins. If Jane hadn’t looked at him with loving expectation, hadn’t been so sure her old man would make fairness and justice align, well, Jim wasn’t sure what he would have done. It wouldn’t have been this.

This being escorting the Harrington kid to the hospital to sneakily convey the plan to Munson, and then ruin his life.

Ruin Harrington’s life, that is. It might save Munson’s.

----------

Jim recognized Wayne Munson from all the times he’d come down to the station to claim his nephew. Wayne looked older than Jim remembered him. Eddie, pale with blood loss and handcuffed to the bed, looked younger. He didn’t know the officer standing guard in Munson’s room; a new hire while he’d been in Russia.

“It’s family only,” the officer instructed. Jim frowned at him.

“I'm not here to visit.” Jim wasn’t the chief anymore, but he still knew how to talk so the lower ranks would listen. “I’ve found Munson’s alibi.”

He shoved Harrington forward. The kid reached a hand out towards Munson, looked at the guard and stopped. He stiffened his shoulders and placed his hand on top of Munson’s. Not a bad performance.

“I thought the cops would ask me about our last date on Friday. But they didn’t come around.” Harrington kept his eyes down, but spoke to Munson. “Why didn’t you tell them? Did you think I’d lie about being with you?”

“Maybe? The whole ‘no one can know’ thing seems pretty important to you.” Between the handcuffs and the IV drip, Munson couldn’t really shrug. “You still take girls out. You took a girl to the game that night, even.”

Harrington had said Munson would figure out the plan quickly, that they wouldn’t need to feed him very much information. Jim hadn’t expected he’d not only get the gist of the plan but be able to fish for useful information as well. He was impressed.

“And took her home right after so I could meet you.” Harrington raked a hand through his hair. “You know the girls are just for show. So no one suspects. I don’t… I don’t sleep with them anymore.”

“That’s enough.” The officer looked between the two young men, then at Jim. He obviously wanted to take Harrington out of the room and interrogate him properly, but wasn’t sure he could leave his murder suspect.

“Munson’s not going anywhere,” Jim pointed out. “I’ll keep an eye on him while you call Chief Powell.”

The officer nodded in deference to Jim’s air of authority. He left, taking Harrington with him to keep the boys from discussing their stories any more.

It clearly hadn’t occurred to him that Jim might help them get their stories straight. Ideally, he’d speak to Munson alone, but presumably the elder Munson cared more about keeping his nephew out of jail than the truth.

“Right, so after your club meeting-” Jim started. Munson interrupted him.

“I drove to Steve’s place. I parked my van in the woods so none of his neighbors would see it. Like I always do.” Munson rolled his eyes. “I got there first; let myself in the back. Steve got there maybe five minutes after me. We had a fight, about Steve taking girls out. Again. I will spare you and Wayne exactly where that led, though I expect the police will request all the details, perverts that they are.”

“You got all that from ‘date last Friday?’” Jim asked. It was almost exactly the story Steve had told him. Not the same words, not the same point of view, but the same events.

“No, I got it from ‘last date, on Friday,’” Munson corrected. Jim wasn’t sure why the difference mattered. “So our last date, but like it happened on the Friday before Spring Break.”

Jim frowned, confused. Wasn’t Harrington pretending to be dating Munson? He looked over at Wayne, who seemed as lost as he was.

“I thought you broke up with that boy?” Wayne was apparently lost in a very different place than Jim was.

“I did, though, under the circumstances, I may omit that detail. Unless Steve is planning to say I dumped him before I left that morning?”

“He isn’t.” Harrington had asked if the alibi would sound more believable coming from a current or ex-boyfriend. Jim had thought a break-up the day of the murder sounded too convenient. Not that either would have been credible enough to clear Munson’s name if the Feds weren’t around to put their thumb on the scale. Harrington’s story was more to get them to place it on the side of Munson being released rather than blackmailed into a plea agreement.

“Then I guess he and I are officially back together.

#my fic #stranger things #steddie #you know i forgot how much i liked this one #maybe if i can think of a good ending i'll go back to it

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seospicybin · 7 months ago

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PROFESSIONAL COURTESY.

PROLOGUE

Felix x reader. (s)

Chapters: Part I / Part II

Synopsis: Discovering that his new boss is someone he had one night stand with, Felix struggles to separate work life and personal business. And at times, finding himself mixing those two as he works under your dominance. (9,8k words)

Author's note: I hope you like it. I hope you really do because it's only the prologue hehe

Felix works at a sports news outlet, Sports One.

Initially, he wanted to become one of the contributing journalists in the team but he got hired for a different position instead. As long as he got in, the only thing to do was work his way up to get to that.

However, the climb to the dream job isn't easy.

For the last two years, he's been working as an assistant to the editor in chief and recently, the one he worked for got fired for money and sex scandals which brings disadvantages to the company as the name swirls around with his name along with the many indecent things he did.

The position now is vacant and that leaves Felix's future uncertain. In his defense, he did nothing wrong, he got interrogated as well because of the scandals and proven to have no connection whatsoever to the scandals which secured his job for now. But it seems like he has to wait until someone takes over the position to find out his fate.

There's a rumor going around the office that the managing editor will be appointed Editor in Chief, not only because he's been loyal to the company for the last eight years but he's been indirectly taking the role while the real one was busy embezzling fund and using the money to party with underage girls.

Rather than moaning about his uncertain future, Felix helps around the department and he likes it, it gives him an idea of what it's like when he becomes a contributing journalist.

"You're working harder than most people here," the managing editor, Mr. Kang, says.

Felix shyly smiles as he continues typing on one of the contributing journalists' computers, "I take it as a warm-up session because I'll be working for you soon," he teasingly says to him, hinting at the rumor.

Mr. Kang lets out a sonorous laugh, "I'm afraid I'll be taking Yoon with me," he says.

Yoon is his assistant who has been working for him for three years, the most loyal but also the most mouthful, she's responsible for the 90% of rumors spreading around the office.

"But you know what, I like seeing where you're sitting now, Felix. I think you belong in this chair," Mr. Kang adds with a sly smile and eyebrow raised.

His future suddenly gets so bright and hopeful, he can see how beautiful it is but still out of his reach. Nevertheless, he only needs the rumor to come true so he can have this chair.

Yoon may have been responsible for the 90% of the rumors spreading around the office but the accuracy is below 50%, the rumor could be 50% true or 50% rumor, he also can't ignore the possibility that Yoon started this rumor just to build people's opinions to favor her boss.

In other words, Felix's future is uncertain still.

For the first time, Felix chose to believe in the rumor and manifest it hard because who knows? If he thinks of it hard enough, the universe may grant his wish, and the climb would be over.

It's Friday night and Felix has planned his night.

First, he's going to his friend's for his housewarming party which reminds him to buy wine as a present. The perks of being an assistant to a vacant position are not only that he can leave work early, but he can also ride his bike to work.

He puts on his leather jacket, gets on his bike, and turns the engine on, the bike is roaring alive as it's vibrating between his legs. He then puts on his helmet to finally ride his bike out of the building and into the world.

There's nothing like it, the feeling of riding through the city streets as adrenaline adrenaline surging all over his veins as he pushes the speed closer to the limit.

Arriving at his friend's house, Felix parks his bike next to the gate since the driveway is packed with cars already. His friend doesn't even own the house, it belongs to his girlfriend who recently bought it with the money she makes from working as an art dealer.

The house is in the most luxurious and exclusive suburb, sitting on the hill that overlooks the city so Felix can't lie, he's impressed.

The house seems average from the outside but once he gets inside, it's so big and spacious, filled with expensive shiny, furniture.

"It's a nice house," Felix says as his friend welcomes him in.

Suddenly, the wine he bought for a housewarming gift feels so cheap in his hand. He hesitates to give it to him but his friend has seen him carrying it and it would be rude not to give it to him.

"A housewarming gift," he says, awkwardly handing it to him

"Thank you," he takes it from his hand and proceeds to take him on a house tour.

It doesn't take long for him to feel overwhelmed by everything he's seen inside the house, also, he doesn't see anyone he knows in there except for the host of the party.

Felix decides to step out of the fancy house and head to the garden, he sees a group of people there, smoking and chatting. Tempted, he comes up to them and politely asks for a cigarette. Not only did they give one to him, but also lit it for him.

Not wanting to bother them more, Felix heads out of the gate and walks around the area while taking slow drags of his smoke.

It's the most luxurious piece of land yet they provide such poor streetlights, if it wasn't for the full moon that shines so brightly, it would be dimly-lit streets.

His phone beeps with a new notification, and he checks it with the cigarette dangling in the corner of his mouth. It's a text from his other friend, telling him to join him at the bar. He composes a reply before shoving his phone back into his leather jacket pocket.

When he looks up, he senses the presence of another person there but he can only make out the shape of a figure that walks toward him from the opposite direction. He can't see the person but he hears the clicking of their shoes against the pavement then a loud, cracking sound.

"Fuck!" A voice says.

Felix stops walking and takes the cigarette dangling between his teeth. Just because it's an exclusive real estate doesn't mean it's free from criminal acts. He feels alerted as the voice keeps cursing and sighing but he waits there to see if the person will eventually reveal himself.

A light shines out of nowhere then he notices it's coming from a phone screen and there he sees, a face, a beautiful face that he believes belongs to a girl.

"Hello, yes, can I order a taxi?" You talk on the phone.

The voice confirmed it, you are a girl. Felix immediately tosses his cigarette butt onto the pavement and steps on it.

"Hi, hello?" He hesitantly greets.

With your phone still pressed close to your ear, you immediately step back in horror, realizing that there's someone else there.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overhear, I..." he starts explaining but you keep retreating as if he'd hurt you.

Felix raises his hands to show he doesn't bring anything with him and doesn't mean to harm you, "I'm here for a party and I was just walking while smoking when I found you calling for a taxi," he explains.

You remain cautious and hold your phone in one hand, ready to call the police if you need to. While the other hand is carrying your broken shoes which he guesses, you won't hesitate to fling it to him if you need to.

"Yes. And?" You ask with a glare at him.

"It's tough luck to get a taxi here, even if you get one, you will have to wait for at least half an hour," he says, keeping his hands visible at all times, or that shoes will fly at his face.

"And that's if you're lucky," he adds.

You put your hands down to your sides and let out a sigh, "What are you suggesting?"

"It seems like you need help to get somewhere, I mean, I can give you a ride," Felix carefully says, he doesn't want to sound like a creep saying that but there's no other way to say it.

You look at him, scanning him up and down with laser eyes that could see through him.

"Why?" You ask with a voice that is heavy with suspicion.

Somehow, Felix finds the whole situation funny and can't help but let out a laugh. But that seems to give you the wrong impression, he quickly gets ahold of himself and puts on a normal expression.

"I was about to leave the party anyway so I don't see why not," he simply answers.

Seeing that you're still suspicious of him, he decides not to force the help on you, "But if you have ordered a taxi then I'll just..."

He pretends to walk away just to give you not much time to think about his offer, he starts to regret it though that after a few steps away, you don't call for him.

"Fuck. Why did I bother?" He sighs to himself as he digs his hand into his leather jacket pocket, "This is so fucking—"

"Hey, wait!" You finally call for him.

Felix is having a moment of triumph, he quietly smiles and slowly, turns around on his feet and keeps a coy expression on his face.

"Yes?"

"Can you please give me a ride?" You ask, suddenly turning into this girl with puppy eyes that shine even under the dim light.

Somehow, that works to melt his insides and he can't find it in him to say no to you.

"Sure," he says with a smile.

You come up to him while hugging your purse and shoes in front of you.

"I hope you don't mind we have to walk a little," he says.

"It's okay," you mutter, even though it doesn't seem comfortable to walk barefoot on a cool night like this.

The walk back to his friend's house is quiet with the moonlight that shines through the tree branches illuminating both of your faces and the occasional sigh you let out from walking barefooted against the cold pavement. He thinks of offering himself to carry either your purse or your shoes for you, but that would only make you suspicious of him again.

Arrived at the gate of his friend's house, Felix turns around to face you, "You can wait here while I—"

"I don't mind walking a little more," you insist, hugging your purse tighter in front of you.

Well, Felix can't stop you but it's a good thing that he didn't park the bike far from the gate. The keys are jingling as he fishes it out of his jeans pocket.

"So, where did you park your car?" You ask in confusion while craning your neck to the row of cars parked in the driveway.

"Uhm... actually," he scratches his head as he walks over to his bike to show you what he rides.

There's an unreadable expression on your face but he sees how one corner of your mouth slightly quivering, not pleased with what you're seeing.

Felix unlocks the trunk under the seat to get a helmet for you, he then gives it to you.

"I'll drive safely," he assures you before you can say something about it.

The bike launches forward as it stops right in front of the hotel and Felix is more than glad for the journey to end. The front of his jacket is crumpled from how you've been clinging to him for dear life and he didn't even ride in high speed.

He pushes his visor open and looks over his shoulder while offering his hand as a support to help you get off the bike.

When you take his hand, your hand is cold as ice and he feels bad for not insisting you to wear his jacket.

"Are you okay?" He asks as he sees you slightly staggering backward the moment your bare feet touch the pavement.

You use his shoulder to steady yourself and let out a sigh, "I'm okay," you tell him.

You take another step back and that's where he can see fully see you. You're wearing a silk blouse with a tight skirt, he notices the flimsy stocking and the expensive designer purse but the strap is a little torn, either from overuse or someone yanked at it too hard.

Wait, it reminds him of how his former boss likes to have a lady escort wherever he goes and they usually dressed exactly like this.

"For the ride, can I... pay you with money?" You suddenly ask then rummaging inside your bag, accidentally exposing a bundle of cash inside.

"No, no, it's okay. You don't have to pay me," he quickly refuses.

First the hotel, then the way you dressed, and now the cash... could it be true?

You pull your hand out of the bag and hug it close to your chest, "Then how can I— Can I at least buy you drinks at the hotel bar?"

The hotel surely has better alcohol than the bar where his friend is waiting, but then again, what if it's true? That you're a lady escort and you ask for money at the end of the night?

"No," he refuses again, he's smiling but eagerly shaking his head, "No need. I'm just happy to help."

"Are you sure?" You ask again while hugging yourself.

"Yes," he hastily replies.

"I don't feel good knowing I owe someone something," you tell him.

"You don't owe me anything," he assures you, "I'm just happy to help."

You feel dejected by it then slowly nodding your head in understanding, "Then, I have nothing else to say but thank you," you sincerely say.

"No problem," he coyly says.

You look at him and hold his gaze for a moment before looking away, "I should head inside."

"Yeah, it's cold," he says, seeing that you're shivering the longer you stand outside with no shoes on.

You turn around to leave but he calls for you, making you turn on your feet right away.

"Yes?"

"My helmet," he says, pointing to your head.

"Oh?" You shyly laugh, realizing that you still wearing it.

Noticing that you're struggling, he gets off his bike and stands in front of you to help you unclasp the straps under your chin, then slowly take it off of you.

"Thanks," you say with a sheepish smile and quickly fix your hair.

Felix holds the helmet on his side and standing there looking at you. This is the first time he can see you wholly under the bright light of the hotel entrance. Your hair is flying around from the wind and your eyes are flickering, offering warmth that he didn't know he sought.

Suddenly, he doesn't feel like going, he wants to follow you inside and lingers in the warmth of your gaze.

"Once again, thank you," you mutter with a smile, the sincerest smile he ever seen on you.

It gets him so flustered out of nowhere that he looks down and holds the helmet in one hand, "Don't mind it."

You seem to have something else to say to him but decide not to say it out loud. You gulp air and stifle a nod, "Have a good night!"

"You too," he says back.

This time, you turn around and keep walking without looking back, entering the hotel with the doorman politely greeting you and opening the door for you.

And that's the last he's seen of you.

Or that's what Felix thought.

He forgot about your shoes until he stopped at the bar and opened his trunk to put his helmet inside. It's a pair of strappy, black sandals with one of the heels broken and flapping open on the back of the sole.

If this is expensive, you would have asked for it but since you didn't, he guesses it's better to throw it into the trash. It's broken anyway.

Felix carries the shoes with him to the side of the bar where the dumpster is and as he's about to toss it in, a girl who smokes there notices what he's about to dump.

"Wait, wait, wait!" She comes running to stop him from whatever he's doing.

"Yes?" He asks in confusion.

"Are you throwing away those shoes?" She asks with eyes widening in slight horror.

"Excuse me?"

"The shoes," she points at the shoes.

"Uh... yes," he stammers with the shoes still hanging in the air around his hand.

"Just give it to me, please?" The girl says she's not even asking but urging him to give it to her.

"Why?"

"I want those shoes," she simply answers with a fake big smile just to soften him.

But he senses that she knows the real value of the shoes and that's why she wants it so badly. Felix puts down his hand and hides the shoes behind him.

"No, I'm not throwing it away," he says.

"Why? Why?" She stammers, trying to peek behind his back for the shoes, "How about I buy it from you?"

"No, I was... I was mad at my girlfriend and threatened her with the shoes. I didn't plan on throwing it away, I'm just... just trying to scare her," Felix made up a story on the spot just to get rid of the girl.

The girl doesn't buy it or she's simply persistent on buying the shoes from him, "Well, I'll buy it still and you can—"

Felix hides the shoes inside his jacket and hugs it close to his body, "No, I'm sorry. I can't do that. This is not for sale."

The girl keeps following him and insisting on buying the shoes, her persistence is admirable but it starts to scare him as she almost follows him into the restroom of the bar. He even locked the door just in case she tried to barge in.

Felix takes a moment to breathe after putting down the shoes on the top of the sink. Seeing how much the girl wanted to buy it from him, makes him curious about how much it costs.

He pulls his phone out to do a quick internet search, he takes a picture of it to get a definitive result and he lets out a gasp from finding out how these shoes cost a fortune, like a whole lot of fortune.

A lady escort can't afford this, he reckons. Let's say it's a gift from someone but it's a lot to be considered as a gift a rich person gave to their favorite lady escort.

He suddenly treasures the shoes more than before, he clutches them close to his chest and protects them as he walks through the crowded bar.

"Oi, Felix, we're here!" His friend shouts from across the room.

"I have to go!" He shouts back.

"You just got here. Where are you—"

He can't hear the rest of the sentence as his voice is drowned out by the music and the chatters, and he pushes through the packed hallway, and then out of the door.

Felix has a new plan tonight: Return the shoes to you.

How many people walked into a hotel barefooted though? Surely not much so it shouldn't be a problem for the lady at the reception to identify you. She gets suspicious of him instead for not even knowing either your first or last name.

"I'm not allowed to share our customer's information," she says.

What is it with people being suspicious of him tonight?

"I'm not asking for her information," he reminds himself to keep calm, "I just need to return these to her."

Felix puts the shoes on the top of the counter and he knows these are broken shoes but he has an explanation prepared if she gives him a funny look.

"You can leave this with us and we'll make sure to hand it to the rightful owner," she says with a courteous smile.

But that's not what he wants, he wouldn't even bother coming here just to give it to the lady at the reception. She's not who he wants to see.

Felix puts on his charming smile and leans forward on the counter, "I'm planning on handing these personally to her so can you help me?"

Instead of winning her over, the lady seems a little creeped out by it so she slowly takes a step back.

"Can you call her room and tell her that I want to return her shoes," he pauses to lean closer and amplifies his charm before saying the magic word, "Please?"

Felix is cringing inside but he keeps his smile on for another second and it works, he's still got it.

"Let's see what I can do for you," she says.

He intently watches as the lady calls your room and talks to you through the phone, asking if it's okay for him to come up to your room to hand you the shoes.

The lady eventually hangs up the phone and Felix looks at her with hopeful eyes, waiting for her to say something.

The lady cracks a smile and then says, "She's on the 25th floor, suite 15."

"Oh, thank you so much!" Felix grabs at her hand in joy and quickly lets go once he notices.

In the elevator that takes him to the 25th floor, Felix starts to get a bit nervous. He's aware that returning the shoes is a weak reason for him to come here when the truth is, he wants to take what you offered him earlier.

He fixes his leather jacket and then the collar of his shirt next, he brushes his hair as much as he can just to make it look less of a mess.

He raises his hand then it stays hovering for about a few seconds as he musters up the courage to finally knock on the door.

Felix's foot anxiously bounces against the carpeted floor as he waits by the door and holds your shoes with both hands in front of him.

A moment later, the door finally opens and there you are, standing behind the door dressed in a white hotel bathrobe.

"Come in," you say, leaving the door open for him as you head inside the room.

It takes Felix a few seconds to come to his senses as the door is slowly closing, he hurriedly stops it with his hand and then gets inside.

As you stand there in the middle of the room of the suite you're staying in that is too big for one person, he notices that you're not wearing the bathrobe for the sake of being in a hotel room, you've just showered. There's no speck of makeup on your face and your hair is damp, it feels like he's seeing a different you from the one he met earlier, pristine and bare.

"I'm sorry, but what is your name again?" You ask with a hand on your waist.

As a matter of fact, you both haven't gotten the chance to introduce each other and he blames that entirely on his haste judgments for thinking you're something that you're actually not.

"It's Felix," he eloquently answers.

You look at him then eyeing the shoes he's been holding on his side, "Well, Felix, you can put them down somewhere," you tell him.

It would be rude to just drop them anywhere, he opts for a piece of furniture he sees for the first time and carefully puts your broken shoes on top of the dresser.

"Please, have a seat!" You tell him as you waltz to the bucket of ice and a bottle of liquor he guesses you have ordered even before he came here.

There are so many options to sit but he decides on the long sofa that could fit five people and sits on the far end of it, fiddling with his jacket, wondering whether to take it off or not.

"I hope you like cognac," you say as you come up to him with a drink in hand.

Felix immediately aborts his plan to take his jacket off to take the drink from your hand, he hesitantly takes a sip as you sit so close next to him when there's so much space left on the sofa but you choose to corner him.

"So Felix," you shift your body to face him and gracefully cross your legs, "what made you come here?"

If you can afford to stay in a suite at a 5-star hotel, then you definitely can afford the same pair of shoes you broke tonight. He stares at his drink for a while as if it would tell him the answer to your question because he doesn't know what made him come here, but he knows it's not because of the shoes.

"The drinks," he settles on a safe answer, "You offered me drinks and I took the offer a bit late, I hope you don't mind.

"I don't mind at all," you say with one corner of your mouth raised higher than the other, "I got a feeling that someone is coming. That's why I ordered a bottle in the first place."

He nods and takes another small sip of his drink, funny that he can't taste the alcohol at all, it tastes oddly sweet and light, or maybe the effect unknowingly has taken over him.

"It's nice to have drinks with someone," you add.

Yet Felix is the only one with a drink in hand and you're only watching him drinking his alcohol with your fingers pressed against your temple.

The way you're looking at him makes me feel like an object that is being studied, but he likes that it makes him feel fascinating to you. He'll like it more if your eyes look a little less intimidating.

You suddenly let out a low chuckle "Want to know something?"

Felix swallows his drink first to answer you, "Yes."

"I was having a really bad night tonight," you share with a sad smile, "Until you came."

He doesn't know how to react to that because that came out of you unexpectedly, catching him off guard. The only thing he can do is smile and have another sip of his drink.

Noticing that he almost drains his glass empty, you hurriedly take the bottle and refill it for him, "Then you refused my offer about the drinks and I must say I felt a little dejected."

You settle yourself back to your seat and somehow, you sit closer to him, leaving just enough space between your bodies.

"But here you are, making my night a lot better," you continue with a voice that turns lower than before, almost like a whisper.

For the first time, Felix braves himself to look at you and sees how you're staring back at him with eyes that know no fear, unwavering. It makes him nervous, but at the same time, it inexplicably arouses him.

"You get me wondering..." You take the drink from his hand and have a long sip without your eyes straying away from his.

Your eyes get him thinking of filthy things and wanting to do those things to you, he deeply wishes if that's what you've been wondering, if you allow him to do those things to you.

He swallows air as you put the drink away and put your attention back on him, he's dying to know the rest of the sentence.

You reach for the collar of his leather jacket and slide your hand down the lapel, you're only touching the jacket but he's shivering as if you're touching his skin.

"I wonder if things could get any better than this," you finally finish your sentence.

Your eyes meet again in a gaze and you grab the front of his jacket, pulling him close so you can crash your lips against him.

Felix pulls himself together to return the kiss, putting all of him to impress you because that's all he can think of, he wants to impress you. To do that, he dares himself to have a little control, putting his hand on your jaw to angle your head to the side so he can deepen the kiss.

You let out a low moan as he parts your mouth open with his tongue and slips it inside, tasting more of you. Your hand is crumpling the front of his shirt and pulling him closer as the kiss goes deeper.

There's no way he doesn't enjoy kissing you, the way you keep letting him in and responding to his kiss, oh... he can't stop even though he feels a little lightheaded from running out of breath.

You notice it too as you slowly pull away but keep your lips lingering only inches away from his lips, teasing, tempting him to kiss you again.

You lean in with your mouth slightly parted open, brushing your lips against his repeatedly so that your warm breath is the only thing he's inhaling.

Felix boldly decides to be the one going for it now so he leans in only to find you slowly backing away from him.

"I can make things get any better than this," you confidently mutter to him.

With a sly smile, you get up from the sofa as you dramatically take your hand off him, you take the bottle of alcohol in one hand and a glass in the other hand, walking away from him to show him where to go so he can follow. You slide open the two doors that lead to the bedroom and leave them open for him.

There is it, the answer he's been looking for, he came here not to return the shoes, not for the drinks but it's for whatever is waiting for him behind those doors.

With the doors left ajar, Felix can see you sitting on the end of the bed, legs crossed with your thighs exposed and a drink in hand. The eyes you're giving him are different, they're fierce and full of anticipation as if you're expecting something from him.

After a moment of just looking at him with those eyes, you put down your drink and rest it on your lap.

"You can take your jacket off," you say.

But it doesn't sound like a choice, you want him to take his jacket off, it's an order and he's more than fine to oblige. He pulls them down and shakes the jacket down his arms, tossing it to the chair nearby.

There the eyes again, you sip your drink with your eyes staying on him.

"I like the shirt," you say after swallowing your drink.

That's not a compliment, to him, that translates as you want the shirt off him too, and again, he obeys without complaint, working open the buttons on his shirts one by one with his eyes looking back at you.

The pupils in your eyes dilated as Felix parts open his shirt, revealing his toned body with the room providing proper lighting to showcase his abs. He then tosses the shirt onto the chair, piling on his leather jacket.

Your eyes straying away from his face, they're traveling down his body and he notices the eyebrows raise, a sign that tells him something piques your interest.

For the last piece of clothing, Felix wants you to try a little or at least, make it fair. He knows that you're wearing nothing under that bathrobe and that's fair to him, but he wants to uncover you first because you've been showing a lot yet so little at the same time.

"Want to know why I came here?" He asks you, walking up to you to get the drink out of your hand.

You look up at him as he gulps the rest of the alcohol, he winces as he forces it down his throat and puts the glass aside to get it out of the way.

"I came to make things better for you," he mutters.

He leans down, propping his arms against the mattress and caging you in between them. With him leaning so close and half-naked, he expects it does something to you but you don't falter, not even a little.

Instead, he finds you looking back into his eyes and then you take his hand, placing it on the belt of your bathrobe, allowing him to undress you, in other words, satisfying his need to see your body.

He becomes the one who's nervous for both of you, he tries to remain calm, slowly untying your bathrobe with one hand as tension rises in the room. He has to prepare himself well before parting them open, uncovering your beautiful mounds to him with your nipples erected from being exposed to the cool night air.

Just before he puts his hand away, you take it in your hand again and use it to touch you. Tilting your head to the back, you use the back of his hand to touch your neck and drag it down your front, stopping right on your sternum, you steer his hand to the side.

Now you're using his palm and making him cup your breast in his hand, keeping it there as you lock his eyes in a gaze again.

"You see that?" You ask him as you hold your breast up with his hand, "It looks so perfect in your hand."

Felix is tongue-tied, speechless, his eyes can't catch up to what he's touching but indeed, the way your breast fits perfectly in his hand, he can't help but think that it was made for him.

"Mmh..." you lowly moan as you knead on your breast using his hand.

He can no longer resist himself but uses his hand, touching you as he wants and you eventually let go of your hand, letting him do as he pleases.

You pull him by the neck so you can kiss him, keeping his mouth busy as his hand fondling on your breast and pinching at your nipple once in a while.

Without him realizing, your hand is making its way to the waistband of his jeans. You use both hands to pop open the button and then swiftly unzip his fly, wasting no time to put your hand inside his boxer next.

He has to admit that was impressive, considering that you did all that without looking but he has no time to tell you that when his tongue is in your mouth and your hand is palming his semi-hard cock.

With the current position no longer comfortable for him, he climbs onto the bed and you seem to be more than okay with him hovering above you, if anything, it gives you more reach inside his pants.

That applies to him too, he moves his hand down your front, and he moves slowly as he knows that he's close to where he wants. He lets out a low sigh the second his hand makes contact with your sex, it's soft and delicate like touching a flower.

It's a good thing that he knows how to treat such a beautiful, fragile thing. So he touches you there with so much gentleness and care, that he can feel it blooming under his touch.

It works wonders as you can't seem to keep up with his kisses and your hand is pausing a few times at stroking his cock. You suddenly take your hand out and pull him close only to flip him over, forcing him to take his hand off you.

As you sit straddling him, you take the chance to remove your bathrobe, exposing your naked body to him and only him. Then you crawl over, not stopping until your cunt is right above his mouth, and carefully, you sit on his face.

Felix is not prepared, let alone ready for it but he knows how to use his mouth, especially with how wet and warm you are on his mouth. Just because he's not ready, doesn't mean he's giving up the chance to please you with his mouth.

As you move your hips back and forth against his mouth, you take his hands and place them on your breasts again, guiding him to where you want to be touched. Then you drop to the back with your hands propped against his thighs, continuously thrusting your hips against his mouth.

"Oh, fuck..." you breathlessly curse as the profanity echoes in the room.

His fingers circle on both nipples as his mouth takes more of you, sucking on your clit and then using his tongue to drill into your entrance.

"Oh..." you loudly moan, now moving your hips in slow, circular motions.

Felix let go of your breasts, deciding to curve his arms around your thighs to firmly hold you close, sucking on you harder and intentionally pressing his nose against your clit as breathing is not his main concern at the moment.

He knows you're getting closer to your release as you whine and moan, sometimes both. He loosens his hold around you as a breather, repeatedly running his tongue down your slit as he inhales air to fill his shrinking lungs with lots of oxygen.

However, you decide to spice things up by planting your foot against the mattress, giving more space for his mouth and also, so you can see how well he is at using his mouth. You intently watch as he slips his tongue in and out of you with his half-shut eyes looking up at you,

"You know how to use that mouth for good, mmh?" You mutter at him with your hand in his dark locks and tugging at it.

He smiles with his mouth full of you and with your essence dripping around his mouth, and you think you've never seen something as filthy yet sex like this.

Another profanity falls out of your parted mouth along with a breathless moan, you tug at his harder and harder, he's taking them as a sign that you're close to your release.

This is not what he had in mind when he decided to come here but did he regret it? Not a fucking chance. Felix feels like living in one of his wild fantasies but it's real, he can taste it on his tongue and it tastes so fucking good.

With your head thrown to the back, you let out a mix of a mewl and moan at the ceiling, signifying that you indeed have reached your high.

He rubs his hands up and down your thighs as he watches you slowly descending from your high and back to him, where you can see his mouth is drenched with your bodily fluid. You reach for his face, using your fingers to gather your juice, and then shove them into his mouth, not letting them go to waste.

"I must say you're good with your mouth," you say, watching him lick your fingers clean. You flash him a satisfied smile as you pull your fingers out of his mouth before leaning in to kiss him.

Felix is more than relieved to give you that and surprisingly, he doesn't expect anything in return, he's getting pleasure just from pleasing you, he doesn't know if that makes sense.

You slowly retract yourself and straddle him again, this time you sit right on his crotch. When your hand is wrapped around his cock again, he changes his mind immediately, he needs to have his release, preferably with your help but the how is entirely up to you.

"I don't have any condoms with him," you inform as you lightly rub the tip of his cock with your thumb, "But I'm on the pill and I'm clean."

He always carries a condom in his wallet, just in case something like this would happen and his wallet is inside the inner pocket of his leather jacket, he could get up and get it but would he risk this comfort of your hand wrapped around his swollen cock and more importantly, skipping the chance to feel you wholly.

So he nods and opens his mouth to speak, "I'm okay with that."

But you seem too focused on watching your hand pumping his cock as it's getting impossibly harder in your hand.

"So hot..." you sigh while looking at him with eyes filled with bewilderment, "and so hard..."

"So perfect in your hand," he continues your sentence.

You shake your head in disagreement, "I think it's going to be perfect inside me," you murmur.

Hearing you say that makes him think it, imagine it, and wish those words become true. He's confident with both his body and his skill, but remembering that it's going to be his first time doing it raw, his confidence shrinks a little.

You take his hands and pin them above his hands as you're hovering above him, "It's my turn to give you a ride."

Even though the ride in this context is a different thing, Felix should give you the chance to return the favor, right? He keeps his hands there as you kiss him and slowly pull away to shift your focus to the next thing.

You hold his cock upright and slowly rub your cunt against it, wetting it with your essence. Oh, just feeling your wetness around him is enough to make his brain short-circuit.

"Mmh..." you delightfully hum as you repeatedly rub his shaft between your folds.

When you stop, he knows that it's going to be the time. He quietly takes a deep breath and watches as you aim his cock into your entrance, then slowly, you ease yourself down on him.

It's overwhelming to see and feel his cock going inside you, but try not to explode at the same time. Somehow, he keeps watching as his length disappears into you little by little until he's fully sheathed inside you.

The moan that escaped his mouth is raw and hoarse, you smile catching yourself hearing that. You place your hands flat on his chest and look down at him.

"I like that," you lean in to give him an open-mouthed kiss, "that's the most beautiful thing I ever heard."

Felix can't remember the last time he moans during sex because most of the time, the partner does that part for him, but he takes that as a compliment and it's a good thing that you like it.

With eyes closed, you slowly roll your hips to feel his length inside you and he can feel his cock rubbing against your velvety walls. You're so warm, so tight and so good around him, he doesn't stop himself from moaning to tell you that.

"It's that good, huh?" You say with an eyebrow raised and a cheeky laugh.

Unable to answer verbally, he stifles a nod at you.

You gently cup his jaw and mutter, "I want you to keep moaning for me."

And he finds himself nodding at you.

It's not hard to fulfill your request when you're fucking him so good, You're not going fast or slow, you set a steady pace but he's already getting close to his release.

Without protection, he can feel every drag of his cock against your wall as you bounce on it and watch it slips in and out of you making it harder for him to hold himself back.

Aware of it, you slow down and pull him out of you, hurriedly wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock.

"No, not yet," you tell him between your pants.

He can't decide whether he should be thankful that you abruptly stopped or glad that you're doing that, for now, he decides on the latter.

"I haven't had enough of you so you can't cum yet," you say with a hint of assertiveness in your voice.

To his surprise, he finds himself nodding to you again.

After a moment, Felix managed to calm down and gain some of his senses back. He kisses you back as you kiss him while your hand is keeping his cock pumped for the next session.

The second time isn't getting any easier for him, he feels even more sensitive than before and just being inside you strips away all of the senses he just gained back.

"We'll take it slow this time," you mutter with a mischievous smile.

You stick true to your words, rolling your hips back and forth in painstakingly slow motion. You prop your elbows against the mattress to watch his reaction with your face hovering only inches away above him.

"Do you like it?" You ask with a smile, knowing exactly what you're doing to him.

"Yes," he hastily replies.

"So you like it slow, huh?" you say with an easy smile.

Felix starts to think that it's not about the pace, you're just too good at this and it's truly impressive since you're doing all the work while all he's doing is just lying there on his back and moaning for you.

"Getting close, mmh?" You say with a kiss pressed on his jaw.

Indeed he is and you're showing no sign of stopping even though you know, he's afraid that he's going to cum for real this time.

"Just a bit more," you murmur, adding intensity to your thrusts.

It's obvious that you're getting close as well, he can feel you tightening around him and giving him no choice but to—

You pull him out again right on time, you do the same as you did earlier, holding the base of his cock while you're straddling him.

At first, you seem to him like any other girl, beautiful and delicate, wanting to be treated, and spoiled. But here you are, breaking that notion and showing him that you're not just any other girl.

"Can we continue now or do you still need more time?" You ask with your head tilted to the side and a coy smile that lingers on your face.

And how do you have this much stamina in you? He does nothing but he feels exhausted from how you're giving him all sorts of sensations in those two intense sessions.

Maybe Felix likes being the one treated and spoiled like this and only figured it out now because you're the first person to ever do that to him.

"Do as you please," he says, completely surrendering himself to you because he believes you're going to give him what he wants.

Your smile grows wider hearing his words and on the third time, Felix has prepared himself for it but that doesn't stop him from whimpering as you slide him in again.

"Mmh... I like that you're only getting harder inside me," you hum.

You're reaching down for your clit to rub on it, pleasing yourself with him inside you and letting him watch it. He has the best seat in the house for it but his eyes widen in horror once you start clenching around him.

He's torn between letting you continue pleasing yourself or stopping you before it gets too late. He tries to stop you but all that comes out of him are incoherent words.

"Oh... I– Mmh..."

You stop touching yourself and look at him, "What did you say?"

He's shaking his head instead, not wanting to sound like a blabbering buffoon to you.

You let out an amused chuckle and peck his lips, "Very cute."

That one compliment makes him flutter inside and—

"Oh!" You gasp, "I can feel you twitching inside me."

You lean in to give him a long peck on his lips with your hand steadily holding his chin, "You're very, very cute."

Oftentimes, he doesn't like being called cute, he prefers to be seen as this cool guy, and his deep voice supports that title but suddenly, he doesn't mind that at all. He likes being cute, very, very cute for you if that means being a moaning mess under you as you're incessantly fucking him at a fast pace.

You don't stop yourself from moaning as well, grunting as you keep moving with all the strength you have to take him to his high.

Felix's hands fly to grip each side of your waist out of reflex, it's unclear whether he tries to stop you or guide you, either way, there's no way he's making it this time.

"Just a bit more," you breathlessly mutter with your head tilted up at the ceiling.

But Felix is on the brink of exploding into a million pieces with all these overwhelming sensations going on all at once. His nails dug into your flesh and his moans are turning into helpless cries as you tirelessly move.

"I can't, I can't," he repeatedly says, so close to hitting his limit.

You immediately pull him out and this time, you keep your hand wrapped around him, pumping him at a fast pace and concentrating hard on keeping the pace.

He's growling and his fingers clawing at your thighs as your hand does the job of keeping the pleasure going and ultimately, taking him to his release.

It only takes him a few pumps to finally come undone.

"Oh..." his voice breaks.

He can feel everything but at the same time, his body feels numb until he opens his eyes and sees that his legs are shaking and his cum is making white streaks on your stomach.

"That was close, eh?" You say with that coy smile of yours with your hand coated with his seed.

Felix can't remember the rest of the night but one thing he knows for sure is that things can't get any better than this.

It feels like he's been sleeping for ages that when he comes to his wake the next morning, he has to force his eyes open like they've been glued shut for a long time.

He slowly rises on the bed, propping his elbow against the mattress, and looks around, the bed is empty, it's just the quiet that hangs in the room that greets him.

He rubs his eyes like it would help him clear his mind and when he hears the footsteps coming, he suddenly pretends to be still sleeping.

But he sees through his squinted eyes, that you're walking into the room in your skirt and bra on, taking something out of your bag, then walking to the mirror that hangs on one side of the wall.

He watches as you meticulously put on your earrings one by one and then fix your hair by brushing it with your fingers. There's something about watching a girl getting ready, it's like he's watching a movie where the character is unaware of the audience in the room.

You head to the bathroom and he lets out a breath of relief for not getting caught watching you getting ready but that's a haste thinking.

"I have to go at 8," you announce as you come out of the bathroom with your blouse still unbuttoned.

Felix scrambles on the bed, pulling the duvet close to his chest, and is busy covering his body like you haven't seen him butt naked last night. Realizing how stupid he makes himself seem, he lets his hand drop and acts casual.

"I'll see myself out in a few minutes," he says, after checking the clock and it's half past seven.

"Take your time," you tell him.

You walk to stand at the side of the bed while tucking the hem of your blouse into your skirt.

"You can stay and order breakfast," you add, smoothing your skirt as you speak.

"My treat," you add.

This time, he can't tell if that's an order or just a courteous offer, so he just sits there on the bed.

"Okay," he innocently answers while blinking his eyes at you.

The phone rings and you gracefully pick it up, pressing the handle to your ear.

"Yes, I'll be there in five minutes," you talk to the phone.

You take your blazer from the hanger and put it on, going around the room to collect your things, shoving them into your bag as you head out of the room.

Felix thinks you're already out of the door but he doesn't hear the door being closed. But he starts dragging himself out of the bed and getting up, sending the duvet slipping down his body.

He stands looking out of the window that offers the city view from this height, butt naked. He stretches his arms out and fumbles when he sees you coming back.

"Felix," you call him from the doorway.

It's too late for him to cover himself so he acts like it doesn't bother him, "Yeah?"

"It was nice meeting you," you say with a smile.

Indeed, it was nice meeting you as well and you made quite the first impression on him, one that he'll likely remember all of his life.

Despite how much he enjoyed last night, the night has turned to day and he has to continue living his life knowing that he'll never see you again.

The news that his new boss is coming to the office today doesn't affect Felix's exceptionally good mood.

Yes, he is disappointed that Mr. Kang is not appointed as the new Editor in Chief, not because that means he won't get the promotion he implied a couple of days ago, but because he knows how much he deserves it.

Felix takes his cup of coffee with him to join everyone heading to the auditorium to welcome the new Editor in Chief and he patiently waits until the group of people gathers at the entrance to disperse to get inside, he's not in a hurry anyway.

However, it's at a time like this his mind starts to wander to that night, he can't seem to forget it, not in his wake or even in his sleep.

"I don't think you'll be smiling in the next few minutes," Yoon appears from behind him, her glasses slump down the bridge of her nose and her bangs are perfectly curtained on her forehead.

He gets so used to her appearing out of nowhere just to spread her negative aura and ruin his day, but he tolerates her because if there's one person who knows how much this job takes a toll on him, it's Yoon.

"And here comes the sunshine," Felix says with a forced smile, he has to keep his coy even though she caught himself smiling by himself.

"You can say that promotion goodbye," Yoon says, crossing her arms together in front of her.

"At least, now we know the accuracy of your rumor decreased by 20 percent," he remarks, starting to get in line to enter the auditorium.

"At least, now we know you get to keep the job," Yoon gives a rather too-honest comeback.

"Touche!" He responds, not having anything to say back to that.

Felix chooses to sit on the farthest row from the stage and Yoon occupies the seat next to him, clutching her cardigan together, looking fidgety as always.

"So, you got any dirt on my new boss?" He curiously asks while casually taking sips of his coffee.

"The usual," Yoon says as she leans back on her seat.

"Nepotism, Ivy League graduate, interned at the Finance Times, worked as a contributing editor at Club 9 magazine for a year which is a sports magazine centered around golf by the way, and..." She's rambling on and on, spilling information at a light speed.

Felix often wonders how Yoon acquired all this information, he can't even keep up with the things around him, let alone having the time to learn about someone.

"I wonder why her family sent her here to handle the—"

Felix catches something that he doesn't expect to hear, he quickly swallows his coffee and asks, "What?"

Yoon rolls her eyes and turns her head at him, "She's engaged to this– Was– engaged to another nepo baby—"

But that's not the part he's asking about, "No, I mean... she? My new boss is a she?"

Yoon glares at her this time, glaring as if she's not pleased with what she heard, "You're not going to be a misogynistic fuck who objects to having a female boss, right?"

"No," he quickly denies and Yoon's glare softens a little.

"I'm not expecting my new boss to be a woman," he holds his hands up at her to stop her from attacking him and lets him finish talking first.

"I don't mind at all. I'm just a little... just a little taken aback," he explains, emphasizing that he doesn't mind whether it's a male or a female, his only hope is that his new boss isn't going to give him hell.

The applause erupts in the auditorium as Mr. Kang enters the stage, he sees someone lingering by the side of the stage which he assumes is his new boss.

"There she is. The one you'll be working for," Yoon informs while weakly clapping her hands together.

Felix can't see the face as she stands with her back to the side, but in his opinion, she's dressed a little too neat considering that she's going to work for a sports media outlet.

Mr. Kang finishes with his short speech and it's finally time for him to call the person who stole his chance at leading Sports One.

"Let's give our new Editor in Chief a warm welcome," Mr. Kang leads the applause as he takes a step back for the new Editor in Chief to take the podium.

"I hope it's not someone I knew," Felix jokingly says, standing up to see her.

Yoon snorts as she stays on her seat, amused by what he said, "Pfft... you wish!"

When he sees his new boss take a stand behind the podium and then speak into the mic, his heart skips a beat. He recognizes that face, that voice, and ultimately that smile, it's you, the one he had sex with and indeed, someone he knew.

Felix swears that he meant it as a joke but he wonders, could things get any better than this?

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